


Campfire Stories, Season Four

by Polrobin



Series: Campfire Series [4]
Category: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: F/M, Fun, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Team, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-20
Updated: 2010-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polrobin/pseuds/Polrobin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A/N: Annnnd . . . we're off! Season 4, here we go! Super-duper shippy thanks to Leiasky for the on-demand beta work. We'll consider this a late Shipsgiving offering, shall we?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Testing The Waters

**Author's Note:**

> Set between _Nemesis_ and _Small Victories_ , on Chulak and afterward, on Earth _._ Ep. synopsis, _Nemesis: SG-1, minus Daniel who's recovering from an emergency appendectomy (it really was Shanks' appendix) faces creatures of mass destruction that even the Asgard can't control, and must destroy Thor's infested vessel before the Replicator bugs reach Earth. This is the first half of the two-part season ender._ Ep synopsis, _Small Victories_ : _O'Neill and Teal'c risk their lives to keep the Replicator bugs from gaining a foothold on Earth, while Carter helps the Asgard fend off a Replicator invasion._

_  
**Testing the Waters**   
_

~ o0o~

Chulak  
Village of the People of the Sun High Plains (Teal'c's village)  
First night after they arrive from P3X-234

"Carter."

"Sir?"

O'Neill stood over her, his face in shadow as he hovered hear the edge of the firepit. "I'm going fishing tomorrow. Ry'ac and the boys are going to show me the prime spot."

Sam smiled up at him, puzzled as to why he was telling her this. "Ah, okay, Sir. Well . . . um, have fun." She watched as he scratched his head and then sat down beside her, clearly not satisfied with her response. The change in position made it possible for her to see his face, as well as the frown etched on his features. "Sir?"

"You could, I dunno. Come along?"

Sam's heart stuttered to a stop. Here they were again. He asking her to go fishing and she wanting to but unwilling to take that step. It seemed to be so much more. On the other hand, it's not like they'd be alone at his cabin, several states . . . and a world . . . away from the SGC. No, here they'd be surrounded by Jaffa, by Teal'c's family and friends. Here they'd be . . .

"You know what, Carter? Never mind."

"Sir?" Sam started, as dismayed by the withdrawal of the invitation as she'd been worried about the initial invite.

O'Neill moodily poked at the fire and shrugged. "If you don't want to–"

"No."

"'K. Fine." The Colonel shrugged and jabbed once more at the fire.

Sam shook her head and then reached out to still his increasingly violent pokes at the harmless fire. "No, I mean . . . it's not that I don't want to."

"It's not?"

He turned to face her and she got the full force of the brown-eyed puppy gaze, as Cassie so innocently called it. Sam wondered if he knew just how powerful that effect was. The firelight turned his tawny gaze to a deep, warm amber, and the dancing flames seemed to catch and highlight the gold flecks that swam within. Sam swallowed the sudden moisture in her mouth, fighting as she always did, her almost visceral reaction to his direct, open stare. "No," she whispered. "It's not."

"Oh."

The fire crackled merrily in the pit, aided by the Colonel's occasional pokes at the embers. Behind them, Sam could hear Bra'tac as he spun a tale for the younger children around the large, central village fire. She briefly wondered where Teal'c was, then realized that he was probably doing things she'd rather not consider, especially now. After a long moment, she slid her feet back up and rested her cheek on her knees, her eyes on O'Neill. She set her tea down beside her and began to idly play with the one bootlace that always seemed to come undone. "When I was a little girl, Dad was stationed at Scott for a while. There was this huge park on the edge of the base, acres and acres of land. The place was amazing, and Mark and I would disappear all day. We had a gang of friends that we hung out with–"

"Gang?" O'Neill smiled at her. "Carter, you had a gang?"

Shrugging, Sam returned his grin. "Well, you know, as exciting as a gang of eight-year-olds can be. Anyway, my best friend in our group was a guy named Gareth. Gareth was . . . wow. Cool. Amazing. Mr. Funloving himself. Gareth was usually our leader . . . and chief instigator, being the ripe old age of twelve." She glanced up to find O'Neill's eyes on hers, his face relaxed as he listened to her story. "In the park was this outdoor band shell, and behind it, this great hill. Really steep. In the winter it was an awesome sledding hill, but in the summer, well, the hill had a path that was paved with asphalt. Gareth used to challenge us to ride our skateboards down that hill, aptly named 'suicide hill.'" Sam shrugged when the Colonel' raised his eyebrow. "I know. Anyway, we, Mark and I, the Villers boys, Mary Parker and a few others, we'd sort of hop-slash-ride our skateboards halfway down that hill, then hop on and zoom down the last thirty feet or so. Gareth would always laugh and say to us, 'Someday you'll be ready to go all the way down without dragging your feet.'"

Sam took a sip of her now cold tea and grimaced. She smiled when O'Neill reached out and poured warm water into the mug without a word, clearly waiting for her to continue her story. She closed her eyes for a second, thinking of that last golden afternoon of summer when she'd stood at the top of the hill, determined to, just this once, do it.

"Well?"

"The last day of summer vacation, we stood there at the top of suicide hill. I can still see Gareth standing at the bottom, it looked like he was miles and miles away. He was waving me down and Mark was behind me, daring me to do it. Just . . . do it. I really wanted to. Really. Probably more than anything else in the world. I didn't want it because almost all the others had done it, I didn't even want it because Gareth wanted it. I wanted it because _I_ wanted it. To know I had done it. And because . . . well, because." Sam turned her face to the fire, watching the wind chase shadows around the glowing embers. "So, I did it. I pushed off, lifted my foot, and . . . let go."

"What happened?"

Grimacing slightly at the memory, Sam lifted her right hand and tilted it toward the firelight. "I have a scar here, and here, and another on my elbow," she said, pointing at faint mark each in turn. "Broke my wrist and spent the first six weeks of the school year in a cast."

"What'd 'Mr. Fun' say?"

"He came to see me in the base hospital, even brought me flowers. I remember him signing my cast, then looking at me and saying, 'Guess you weren't ready to stop dragging your feet.'" Sam blew out a breath. "I guess he was right, and I have the scars to prove it."

O'Neill added another log to the fire, then looked over at her, his expression questioning. "Are we still talking about fishing?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know . . . maybe."

"And?"

Another, louder breath escaped as Sam shifted. She dropped her knees and crossed her legs Indian style, and rested her elbows on her knees. Setting her mug aside, she clasped her hands together, fighting the urge to fidget. "I think . . . I know, actually," she looked up at him. "I want to . . . go fishing. I do. It's just that . . ."

"Carter, it's just fishing."

"Is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Colonel. When you asked me back on Earth, 'just fishing' meant a long journey to an isolated cabin with just the two of us." Sam swallowed hard, then added softly, "That kind of . . . concentrated alone time opens all kind of . . . other possibilities." She gulped back a sudden wave of fear. "Or, am I completely off-base, and it really _is_ just fishing?"

It probably took O'Neill only a second to respond, but that second felt like an eternity to Sam as she waited, her heart in her throat, for him to respond. When he did, with a sigh of his own and a tiny head shake, Sam felt her heart start to beat again. Then to pound. There it was, out in the open. The unspeakable . . . thing . . . they had.

"No," O'Neill's voice was as soft as hers had been. "You're right."

"Oh . . ." Now it was Sam's turn to sigh. It was one thing to _think_ you knew how someone felt about you, but another to have him confirm it. "So . . ."

"So." The Colonel poked again at the fire, this time his movements were almost tired, listless. He cocked his head at her after a few moments and asked, his voice almost tentative. "But . . . you _will_ go fishing . . . someday?"

And all at once Sam was back on that long-ago hillside, perched on the edge of madness. All she had to do was lift her foot and . . . go. She held his gaze and then slowly nodded, smiling as a rare, open smile slid across his features, matching hers. Her heart raced as she considered what it was they'd said . . . and hadn't said. And what she'd just told him. Yep. The edge of reason.

Madness.

What an amazing place to be.

The fire burned low before O'Neill spoke again. "You know, with all these people around, I'd say this could be considered a safe place to . . . drag your feet, as it were." Those brown eyes were back, deep and amber, engaging Sam's gaze and holding it. When she hesitated, he lowered his voice still more and said, softly, "No pressure, Sam. No pushing. No . . . egging you on. You don't even have to get your feet wet if you don't want to."

Sitting there, his silvering hair limned in the firelight and the stark realities of their everyday battles so far away, Sam had to stop herself from leaning into him. Instead she just nodded, shifting just a little bit closer to him. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay. If the invitation is still open, Colonel, I think I'd like to tag along tomorrow."

~ o0o~

Earth  
Jack O'Neill's Home  
Two days after Sam and Thor beam O'Neill and Teal'c up from the Russian sub.

" _What is your current thinking process?"_

 _Sam, startled by the soft question, rose and turned to her tiny host. "Sorry, my mind was wandering for a second there."_

" _You were thinking about the humans on your planet."_

" _Yes."_

 _Thor's gaze was direct, and Sam found herself fighting the urge to squirm. That urge intensified as Thor said, "Colonel O'Neill is a very capable human."_

 _How had he known? How had he understood that at that very moment Sam wanted to be with her team, with . . . him, fighting this new threat together? How, with each mention of the new Asgard ship_ O'Neill _, she just wanted to turn to find him standing beside her, fighting with her. Just . . . here. Or she there._

"So, they really had a ship named O'Neill?" The Colonel's question, so closely mirroring Sam's thoughts, jerked her back to the present. She looked up as he stepped into the firelight and joined them around the firepit at the bottom of the yard. Pausing to hand out warm drinks to Teal'c and Daniel before settling himself down in his customary spot beside Sam, the Colonel let out a contented sigh, and she couldn't help but smile. Teal'c sat across from them, resting easily in the large canvass chair the Colonel had bought just for him, and Daniel sat perched in the rickety old aluminum chair he'd unearthed from the back of O'Neill's garden shed. When nobody answered, O'Neill spoke again. "Carter?"

Sam looked over at him as he passed her a steaming mug of tea. "Yep. Until a week ago it was their pride and joy."

"How so?" Daniel looked up from his coffee, his expression curious.

Sam blew on her tea to cool it, then took a cautious sip. "Mmm, thanks, Sir." To Daniel she replied, "Thor said it was their most technologically advanced ship to date."

"Huh." Daniel glanced from the Colonel to Sam and back again. He scratched his head and said, a glint of humor in his eye. "Well, that's irony for you."

O'Neill looked up. "How so?"

Sam caught Daniel's eye and bit back a grin, realizing as she did so that she was more relaxed about teasing the Colonel than she'd ever been before. She leaned back against the bench behind her, appreciating the fact that they were all here. Home. Sitting in their usual places around the Colonel's firepit. Stretching her legs out, she wiggled her sneakered feet, grateful for the warmth of both the tea and the fire. And the company. Her thoughts wandered idly as Daniel and the Colonel bantered back and forth, the Colonel insisting that there certainly was no irony at all in the Asgard naming their most important ship after him. Even Teal'c almost smiled at that comment.

"It's funny, don't you think?" asked Daniel, carefully sipping his hot coffee.

"No, I _don't_ , Daniel," O'Neill muttered, still obviously put out.

"Not that, Jack. I mean . . . well, Sam, you used the _O'Neill_ to save both you the Asgard, and then you and the Asgard in turn saved Teal'c and Jack." He shrugged, and then sat back in his creaky lawn chair. "Well, _I_ think that's interesting, anyway."

"Indeed, Daniel Jackson. Almost a full circle."

"Oh, _now_ you speak? Where were you when Daniel was calling my super-smart spaceship 'ironic?'"

Sam snorted when Teal'c merely raised an eyebrow. She raised her cup to her lips again as Daniel spoke.

"Sam, I'll bet you were bored out of your mind on Chulak. I mean, Teal'c got to visit family, Jack looks as relaxed as he does when he comes back from his cabin, but what about you? You seem just as relaxed, and I just can't imagine you went fishing."

Sam leaned forward, choking as she tried to avoid inhaling her tea down her windpipe. The Colonel helpfully thumped her on the back a few times until, coughing slightly, she waved him off. She glanced from the Colonel to Teal'c and back again, noting with a blush Teal'c's gentle gaze and the suble lift of the Colonel's lips.

Easing backward once again on the cushion, she slid her feet up and tucked them under her, deliberately brushing one knee against her Colonel's leg. As she raised her mug again to her lips she allowed a tiny smile of her own to slide across her lips. "Oh, I don't know, Daniel. I might have gotten my feet wet a time or two."

~ o0o~


	2. What it Takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: At end. Thanks to Leiasky for a fast, accurate, and detailed beta. And for the IM followup to iron out the rough bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after The Other Side, on Earth. Ep. synopsis, SG-1 responds to a cry for help from a doomed civilization, which promises to give Earthlings access to highly advanced technology in exchange for supplies that would help them defeat their enemies. But the team soon discovers a shocking secret that may prove that SG-1 is doing a lot more harm than good.

_  
**What It Takes**   
_

~ o0o~

Jack flicked a leaf off of the arm of his deck chair and cautiously leaned back, mindful of the age of the old wood. It creaked, but it held. The sigh he blew out wasn't related in any way to his furniture supporting him and for that he sighed again. _I'm getting too old for this_ , he thought. Reaching for the bottle of Guinness resting on the rail, he paused at the sound of a motorcycle roaring in the distance. For one brief instant his heart leapt, and he cursed that traitorous organ for responding despite his best intentions.

Again the bike gave a throaty grumble and again Jack felt his heart skip.

She wouldn't come, he knew that. She _couldn't_ and he was sure of that, just as sure the _couldn't_ wasn't because of the regulations. Not this time.

Again the look on her face as she stood below him on the ramp flashed before his eyes. Those wide, fathomless blue eyes that always communicated so much to him. This time what he saw there made his oft-stuttering heart shudder with pain.

She'd looked. . .betrayed.

Stunned.

He played with the water beading on the cooling bottle of Ireland's best export and watched the afternoon sun slip into evening, painting the sky with color. Even those colors were muted this evening, duller. Just as he felt. As the last rays faded across the dimming night sky, Jack tipped the last of his Guinness back. It was too cold to sit here, yet he didn't want to go inside. Not yet.

Tipping forward, he set the front legs of the chair down with a thump and rose, slightly stiff from the cool evening air. He tossed the bottle into the recycling bin set into the corner of his porch and, hands stuffed into his pockets, stepped down into the yard. He wandered the perimeter aimlessly before stopping beside the well-used firepit at the bottom of the yard. Kicking at charred fragments of a forgotten fire, Jack studiously avoided turning his gaze toward the cushion set haphazardly on the ground between the picnic bench and the ring of stones encircling the pit.

 _I should replace that old thing_. The he realized how fruitless that would be. He wasn't entirely certain his Second would be sitting there any time soon.

This was nuts, he realized. He was in his own yard, in his own home, feeling like crap, and for what? Because he'd told the tech to close the iris on a modern-day Hitler? What the hell was he supposed to do? Let the guy come through? He'd _lied_ to them! Pushed Jack into killing people who were not, in fact, his enemy. Alar's words came back to him.

" _Well, if you are concerned about lives lost, remember they are your enemy now. I look forward to your return. Which reminds me; perhaps it would be best if the Jaffa did not return"_

 _Confused, Jack asked, "Teal'c…why? He hasn't said a word."_

" _It's not what he said. It's what he is."_

" _Well he's different, I'll grant you that."_

" _Not…like us."_

 _A sick feeling rose in Jack's stomach as he realized the meaning of the man's words. Oh my God. What the hell have we. . .crap. Realizing Alar was awaiting his response, Jack schooled his features and answered cautiously, "Right."_

Sitting down heavily onto the bench, Jack rested his elbows on the table-top behind him and stretched his legs out. Again Carter's face flashed through his memory and again he wished he'd taken a moment and just asked her what she'd been thinking. He could live with the decision he'd made. He had no qualms about ordering that iris closed and letting Alar become another "impact event." He could even, he realized, live with the memory of the faces of the men he'd killed for Alar, that one brief glimpse of their shock burned into his brain.

He wasn't at all sure, however, how he felt about living with the idea that he'd lost the respect of his Second. Of Carter. Of. . .Sam.

"Sir?"

Jack started as her voice came out of the darkness behind him, almost as if he'd conjured her by just thinking about her.

 _Oh, if only_ , his still traitorous heart whispered to him.

"Sorry, Colonel. Am I disturbing you?"

Turning, Jack squinted into the darkness. "Carter? That you?"

It was nearly pitch black in his yard, even the moon was staying away tonight. Jack heard her make her way through the darkness and wondered why she didn't have a–ah, there it was. A tiny beam of light lit the ground at her feet and Jack watched as her sneakers approached. He appreciated that she kept the light pointed down, away from his face, allowing him to see the faint outline of her frame in the reflected light.

The sneakers stopped and the bright beam of her tiny Maglite came to rest on the cold firepit at Jack's feet. He watched her shuffle her feet then said quietly, "What's up, Major?"

The feet shifted again and then the light snapped off, leaving them both in darkness. "I, ah, well, Colonel, I hope you don't mind, but I wanted to. . .to talk with you."

"So. . .talk." _Here it comes._ Jack braced himself mentally. He'd wanted to know what she was thinking on the ramp, but now that she was here, he realized he really _didn't_ want to know. Maybe it was better not knowing. Maybe it was better if –

"Mind if I sit?"

Jack waved vaguely at the bench beside him and then realized she couldn't see that in the darkness. "Sit away, Major."

"Thanks."

Carter settled beside him on the bench, and he noticed she was very careful to avoid touching him. This time his sigh was silent and he felt his heart wilt a bit at the lack of contact. They sat silently, Jack willing to wait until she was ready to speak. After all, she'd come to him, so it was really up to her to start, wasn't it?

Finally he heard her take a long breath in. "No fire tonight?"

"What?" Of all the things he'd expected to come out of her mouth, this wasn't even on the list. "Oh, I. . ." Jack shrugged in the darkness. "Just didn't feel like it, I guess."

"Oh." She nudged a rock with her toe, then reached down to twitch the cushion she normally sat on a bit closer. "It's cold tonight."

"It is."

"Colonel, I. . .do you mind if I start a fire?"

He wondered if that's what she'd really been about to say. Then he wondered if he let her build a fire if she'd say what he didn't want to hear, whatever that was. Then again, if he said no, she might leave and he knew he didn't want that. Having an upset Carter here was better than having her elsewhere. Before he could speak, she did and Jack knew she'd taken his silence the wrong way.

"I'm sorry, I'll just go–"

"No. Sit. Stay." Jack grimaced, now he sounded like she was his spaniel. "I mean, sit for a second. I'll grab some logs." Without waiting, he stood and strode around to the back of the shed, not needing any light. He was in his own space, one he knew well, and didn't need anything to light his way. He grabbed two large logs and then reached low for the pile of tinder tucked up against the side of the shed. Returning to the pit he deftly piled the logs into place, placing the tinder inside, then reached for the small lighter hidden under a nearby rock. Two flicks later and a tiny flame jumped into the small firestarters he'd appropriated from the SGC. Those burned hotly, the flames licking eagerly at the dry wood above, then slowly, they climbed up onto the larger logs.

Glancing over at Carter, he saw that she'd slid from the bench down onto her regular cushion, her knees pulled up and her arms encircling them.

 _Carter Self-comfort Position Number One_ , he thought. Yup. Both knees up, arms held tightly around her legs, chin on one knee, eyes on fire. Check. All there.

For one brief instance he wondered if he should stay where he was, keeping the fire between them. Then her fingers tightened briefly where they were clasped around the front of her legs and his decision was made. Jack stood and brushed bits of dirt and grass off of his legs. "I'll be back in a minute, Carter." He waited for her nod before heading back up to the house.

Once inside he debated, coffee or beer? A brief gust of wind slipped through the still open door and he decided. Grabbing two mugs he filled them with water and set them into the microwave. While they were heating he stepped into the laundry room and snagged a sweater for himself and the sweatshirt he thought of as hers. The microwave dinged as he returned and Jack quickly stirred in two packets from the box next to the 'fridge.

He turned toward the door and then stopped. Carefully balancing the hot mugs and the clothes, Jack grabbed one more item before heading outside. As he approached the fire, he realized he needn't have rushed. Carter hadn't moved an inch.

"Here," he said as he reached the bench. "Put this on, the fire won't be enough."

"Thanks."

Jack nodded and sat down on the cushion beside her. He placed the two mugs on the flat rock before the fire and slipped on the sweater he'd brought down. It was one she'd given him for his birthday, he realized, as she looked over at him. He gave her a small smile and then gestured toward the cups. "Too cold for beer, but this should do it."

"Tea?"

"Hot cider." He turned and reached for the other item he'd brought down, a small bottle of spiced rum. "If you'd like, you can spice it up."

"No," she answered as she reached for her own mug. "This is good."

Jack nodded and put the bottle back. He wasn't all that fond of rum either, but he'd offered, thinking it might help Carter say what she needed to. For that matter, it might help him hear what she'd come to say.

"So. . ." He began, prompting her

"So. . ." Carter took another sip of her drink and settled deeper into her seat. This time, Jack felt her shoulder brush his and he was unaccountably reassured. "I wanted to talk to you, Colonel about today."

"Figured."

"I didn't want to say this at the SGC."

Jack's heart sank.

"But first, Sir, I wanted to apologize."

"F-for what?" Jack was so surprised that he stuttered.

"I, um, it wasn't my intention to, well, I think I made it sound like you didn't know anything."

Carter raised her eyes to his and Jack just raised an eyebrow. He really didn't have any idea what she was talking about.

Seeing his confusion, she said, "When we were at dinner. I started to explain what heavy water was."

Jack raised a hand. "Ah. No. That was fine. In fact," Jack tipped his head. "I was pretty pissed at Daniel by that point and took some of that out on you."

"It's okay, Sir."

"No, it's not, but we'll call that even." Jack took a drink of his cider and leaned back, enjoying the warmth of the now merrily crackling fire. "That can't be what you came here to say, though."

"No."

After a long minute of silence, Jack tried again. "Carter, it's hard enough for me to communicate, don't you think the mind-reading stuff is a bit beyond me at this point?"

"Sorry, Sir. I just. . .it's just. . ."

Jack watched as she struggled for words. He braced himself. "C'mon Carter. Spill."

"I'm not sure I have what it takes."

Her words were soft, her voice low, and Jack wasn't entirely certain he'd heard her right. In fact, he was _very_ sure he hadn't heard her correctly. "Sorry, what?"

When she turned to face him fully, Jack's heart stuttered again, this time responding to the uncertainty in her eyes. Those wide eyes washed almost colorless in the flickering firelight.

"It's just. . .I was so focused on the _science_ ," and her disgusted emphasis was clear. "That I missed things. Important things."

"No you didn't. I heard you at the command table when I was flying that last drone. I heard you asking Alar about the pipes to the surface." Jack shook his head and met her gaze. "You didn't miss anything."

"I did. I felt something was. . .off. . .but was still willing to trade. After all, it was just _water_ , and they were going to give us so much."

"I was willing to do that too, Carter."

She nodded, but Jack felt as if she hadn't heard him. He watched as she turned away to stare into the fire and considered her words again. _I don't think I have what it takes._

"What's this really about, Sam?"

At his use of her name, she turned again to him, and Jack knew he'd been right. This was about the end.

"I don't know if I could have done it," she whispered, again turning her face away. "It's a constant struggle for me, you know." She flicked her eyes up to his. "The balance. Scientist and soldier. Most of the time I get to just be the scientist. I wonder, after things like today, if the soldier part of me has what it takes."

"Carter, you're the most able Second I've ever had," Jack began, but she cut him off.

"Sorry, Sir. But. . .no. I mean, thank you, but. . .today, you, you–"

"Coldly ordered a man's death?"

Carter's shock at his words was clear. She unfolded her legs and dropped them down, crossing them Indian-style as she turned her body to face his. "No. I. . .crap. You did what was necessary, Colonel. He was going to follow us, he _did_ follow us even when you told him not to. Knowing that he would, you did what had to be done." She looked down and her fingers played across the edge of her still-steaming mug. "That's the part I think I don't have."

"You've killed in the line of duty."

"Yes, but that's different. Today. . .what you did, Colonel–"

Jack held up a hand defensively. "Carter, I did what I felt was –"

She continued as if he hadn't interrupted "–one of the bravest things I've ever seen."

"–necessa– what?" Jack stopped as her words penetrated.

"I spent four years at the Academy learning how to be an officer. How to be a scientist. I spent another three years doing post-grad work, again, science. Yes, I've flown support over ground missions. I had to if I wanted to be an astronaut; I needed the flight time. All I ever wanted to be was an astronaut. The Air Force was my way to do that."

"And the SGC got in your way."

"No. I mean, yes. Sort of. This," she waved vaguely to the mountain that loomed behind them in the darkness. "This is the chance, the _career_ of a lifetime. But. . .sometimes I'm afraid that what I know, what I've trained for. . .that when it comes down to it, I won't be able to make that decision. As you did today."

Jack stared at her, speechless with surprise. She had not said a word to him in the debrief that was not in response to a direct question. When the team had changed and their duty day done, she'd left the base without a word to anyone. The shocked and then grim expression on her face had led him to believe that she was angry, or disgusted. Or. . .disillusioned. Never in a million years would he have thought she was doubting _herself_ because of his choice.

He'd been prepared for anything, he thought, but not this.

"Ca– Sam, what I did today wasn't brave. It was. . .necessary. A cop-out, even." Now it was he who fidgeted, his fingers picking at a stray thread hanging from his sweater. "What the hell would we have done with the guy here?"

"Letting another Hitler loose on our planet."

"Exactly."

"That's what I mean, Sir. Bravery isn't always about running into fire. Sometimes it's about standing up and saying 'no.' Or. . .closing a door. I don't know that I–"

"Sometimes it _is_ better to shoot first and ask questions later, despite what Daniel might say." Jack wondered if Daniel would ever get that.

"I know. And in some cases, it's. . .well, not easy, but. . .clear. I mean, if Alar were standing in a mall shooting people, I'd have no trouble making a decision. It's just. . .when it was him running after us, trying to escape. . ." She shrugged again, clearly struggling to articulate something he wasn't certain she could.

"Sam," Jack looked at her. "I am one-hundred-percent certain that when it comes to it. . .and it will. . .that you _will_ be able to make the hard decisions. And. . .I believe that _because_ you are asking if you can do it. If you didn't have doubts, _then_ I'd be worried." He held her gaze, willing her to believe him. She met his unflinchingly, her expression similar to what he remembered from this afternoon, but now colored with hope.

"Thank you," she whispered. She looked away and then back at him. "And thank you for this," she tipped her head toward the fire. "I know it's. . .well. . .out of the ordinary to do this, but. . .thank you."

"Any time, Sam." Jack nudged her with his shoulder as he shifted closer to the fire. . .and to her. "I mean it. Any time."

Jack nudged another log onto the fire and poked it until it, too, was enveloped in the crackling blaze. Firelight danced across the yard, casting everything in an amber glow; its wavering light just kissing Carter's cheeks with warmth. He took a deep breath and surveyed his yard again. Despite the darkness of the night the evening felt brighter somehow.

And his heart was happy.

~ o0o~

End.

~ o0o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: So sorry for the huge delay. I was on vacation (though the Panama Canal) and did absolutely no writing during my four-week semester break. Lots of reading but no writing. So. . .we're solidly off to Season 4.
> 
> About this story. I got into writing SG-1 fanfic mainly because if this episode. I remember thinking, somebody somewhere must have tackled that terrific moment at the end of the episode. Then I couldn't find a single fic. So. . .I started the Campfires, knowing that eventually I'd get to it.


	3. The Space Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: At end. Again, effusive thanks to Leiasky for her insightful beta work. You rock, lady!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after _Upgrades_ , on a planet of my own making. Episode synopsis: _A Tok'ra archaeologist arrives at the SGC with newly discovered technology built by a long-dead race called the "Atinique," giving SG-1 superhuman powers._

_  
**The Space Between**   
_

~ o0o~

Sam carelessly nudged the log near her booted foot deeper into the fire, then leaned back to watch the sparks curl and spin into the rising night wind. She blew out a quiet sigh as she settled deeper into the pile of leaves she'd built earlier, trying to convince herself that she wasn't really hungry.

Again.

Despite Janet's assurances that all residual signs of the Atinique's armband-induced virus were gone from their systems, Sam found herself still reacting sometimes as if she still had the band on. Shooting a covert glance at O'Neill, she wondered if he felt it too or if her continued symptoms were a leftover "gift" from Jolinar. Or because she was a woman.

Wouldn't that suck? Her lingering. . .crap coming down to the simple fact of just having ovaries. Figured.

Sam barely glanced up as Daniel popped briefly back into the campsite, a tattered journal tucked under his arm and a small flashlight clenched in his teeth, enabling him to read as he walked and still gesture to the woman keeping pace with him.

"Wh' A'm fayin' iv–"

"Daniel."

"Hm?"

O'Neill jerked his head once and raised an eyebrow, the O'Neill equivalent of "Excuse me?"

"Hm? Oh." With a pop the flashlight dropped onto the open journal and Daniel waved the young woman forward. "Sorry. Colonel Jack O'Neill, Selara M'Naan. Selara, this is our leader, Jack O'Neill."

"Ma'am."

O'Neill rose and brushed off his trousers, Sam just a second behind. She smiled at the woman, noting that she wore a uniform similar to those she'd seen earlier. "Are you part of the defense, ah, cadre we met earlier?"

Selara smiled at Sam. "No, ah. . ."

O'Neill quickly filled in the blank, "Sorry. Selara M'n. . .M, this is my second, Major Samantha Carter. Carter, Selara."

Sam couldn't help it, she flashed her CO a quick grin at his mangling of the newcomer's name.

"M'Naan, Jack. Really." Daniel rolled his eyes. He touched Selara on the arm briefly, leading her away from the fire. "Selara's part of their scientific and exploration teams and she's going to show us, ah. . .me, I mean, the ruins on the south run tomorrow. We were talking about the similarities between our languages and I couldn't help but remember–"

"Daniel!"

Only slightly abashed, Daniel broke off and grinned at first Jack, then Sam and Selara. "Right. We're just back to grab my other journal." Daniel spun and strode toward the tent he shared with Teal'c, pulling Selara behind him.

"It's like the universe is his own, private place for play dates, isn't it?" O'Neill muttered as Sam resettled herself on her makeshift seat.

"Seems that way, doesn't it? He's always so eager to meet and explore. Sometimes it's like this is just one big adventure for him."

O'Neill stretched out beside her, pillowing his head on his arms and crossing his legs at the ankles. "If you discount the fact that the scum of the universe kidnapped and then killed his wife."

"Crap." Sam's whisper was loud in their silent corner of the campsite. How could she have forgotten? She jumped at a touch on her arm.

"Don't sweat it, Carter. I forget sometimes too."

Sam tucked her knees up and rested her cheek on them, facing her Colonel. "Thanks."

"Mm."

Silence settled around them as the night grew darker. Across the site, Daniel led Selara out of his tent and the two of them disappeared again into the larger archaeological compound the planet's natives had built. Sam idly wondered where Teal'c was. She looked around and realized that she hadn't seen him since he'd disappeared shortly after they'd set up camp.

"T's over with the younger soldiers."

"Thanks." It took Sam a moment to realized that O'Neill had responded to a question she hadn't asked aloud. She glanced down to where he lay, one arm crossed over his eyes, the other behind his head. "Um. . .Sir?"

"Don't have to be a rocket scientist. . .present company excluded, of course. . .to figure out you're tallying team members. We're all accounted for."

Sam was silent as she studied his prone figure, wondering once again about the undocumented side effects of their recent experience. "Colonel, are you experiencing. . .I don't know. Some side effects, still?"

"Don't think so. Why?"

The arm moved slightly and Sam could see the shine of firelight reflected in his still-hidden eyes. She dropped her knees and then rested her elbows on her thighs, propping her chin up on her fists. Shrugging, she answered him, "I don't know. I'm. . .well, I'm _starving_ , and we ate only a short time ago. And I'm still. . ."

"Twitchy?"

"Yes."

"Me too." O'Neill sat up beside her and reached back into his kitchen bag. He pulled out two mugs and lifted one in her direction. At Sam's nod, he filled both with water from the pot near the edge of the fire and set them aside. He emptied a packet of coffee into his while simultaneously dunking a tea bag into hers.

Sam, meanwhile, reached into her own bag and pulled out a small Tupperware square. She opened the foil-wrapped package and split its single contents in half.

"Only half, Carter?" O'Neill passed her one steaming mug.

"Sorry, Sir. The kids in town seem to really like sugar."

"Didn't get them all amped up, did you?"

"No. . .well, not too much. No more than we all were the other night."

"Helluva shot you made at the pool table, though."

"Thanks." A gust of wind blew through the campsite and the tents rattled and fluttered in response. Sam wrapped her hands around her warm mug and savored the heat as it crept up her arms. There really was nothing like a nice cup of tea, even. . .she quickly calculated the distance in her head. . .64.8 light years from home.

Beside her, O'Neill poked at the fire once more before starting in on his dessert. "Saw Siler before we left. Doc says he'll be fine."

"Good." Sam knew that, despite knowing the other man would be okay, her Colonel felt bad about accidentally pushing the enlisted man over the railing. Wanting to distract him, she nudged his arm with hers and said, "Janet's reaction to all this was. . .interesting."

"Hammond said she went all alpha-male on Anise."

She turned to him, eyes wide. "Alpha-male?"

"You know, don't pee in my yard. . ."

"I'm pretty sure, Sir, that it was more like, 'don't hurt my cubs.' In which case, she'd have gone, as you put it, 'alpha- _female_.'" She paused and looked at him closely. "Kind of like you with Daniel in the bar."

O'Neill chuckled as he sipped his coffee and Sam couldn't help but join him as she recalled their excursion to—and subsequent ouster from—O'Malley's. The she remembered something else she'd wanted to ask him. "I was thinking–"

"'Course you were."

Even in the soft glow of firelight, O'Neill's smile was easy to see and Sam couldn't help but smile back, catching his gaze. "That night. After we were, um. . ."

"Kicked out."

"Asked to leave," she corrected, albeit gently. O'Neill snorted softly at her choice of words but let it go. When he raised an eyebrow she continued after a sip of her tea. "When we got back and crashed out, you disappeared. I mean later. I woke up restless and when I looked over, your bunk was empty."

"Ah."

Sam waited, munching on her half of her s'more pop tart, wondering if he'd answer her. She knew that when she'd awakened that night she'd been more than 'restless,' as she'd told O'Neill. She'd been about ready to jump out of her skin. Whatever it was in the armbands that gave them superpowers also enhanced. . .everything.

Every thought.

Every sensation.

Every. . .need.

Luckily for her, they also seemed to enhance Daniel's response to alcohol because he'd slept like the dead from the moment he'd his head to his pillow. Sam, on the other hand, hadn't ever felt more _alive_.

After thirty fruitless minutes of pacing and wondering about the absence of a certain Colonel, she'd sat down at her laptop and continued to write, knocking out another five hundred pages of theory-busting wormhole physics before deciding she was tired enough to sleep again. When she'd been awakened by the guard in the morning, she'd looked over to find O'Neill back in his bunk.

O'Neill set aside his half-empty mug and brushed away the last crumbs of his half of pop-tart. Sam watched as he fidgeted for a moment, then reached back to pull on his jacket. Without a word he pulled hers from her pack and tossed it over. "Gettin' colder, Carter. Better put this on."

"Yes, Sir." Sam sighed. Guess he wasn't going to–

"I went for a run."

"Sorry?"

"That night. I. . .damn, 'restless' doesn't begin to cover it. Twitchy. I was. . .it was. . .I woke up and the room. . .it. . .I could smell y–. . . I had to go. To get out. So," he shrugged, the fabric of his jacket rustling with the movement, "I figured if we could sneak out for dinner, I could sneak out for a run."

"Oh." Sam blew on her tea and nudged another log deeper into the fire. The Colonel was right, it _was_ getting colder. She hunched deeper into her jacket and sat silently for a few moments. "Where'd you run?" She looked up to see a sheepish expression cross O'Neill's face.

"The Academy."

"The Aca–" Sam sat up straight. "Sir, that's. . .that's over twenty miles. One way."

"Yup." This time his expression held just a hint of smugness. He turned toward her, his brown eyes sparkling as he teased, "What's the matter, Major? Jealous?"

"Hardly. I would have done that with you, you know."

O'Neill's good humor suddenly vanished and he turned back toward the fire. "I do," he said softly. "And that's why you couldn't."

"Sir?"

O'Neill didn't answer. Instead he picked up a larger log and tossed it onto the fire with more force than was perhaps strictly necessary. Sam watched as his expression hardened and wondered where she'd gone wrong in the conversation. One minute he'd been teasing her and the next. . .

"Colonel?"

"Daniel ever tell you what it says on those armbands?"

Now Sam was really confused, but she went with the sudden change in direction. "Um. . .no, actually. I haven't read his report yet, so, no."

"'With great power comes great responsibility.'"

"Okay." Sam paused and then tipped her head as a long-forgotten memory came forward. "Wait, isn't that what Peter Parker used to say?" Despite her confusion over the change in topic, Sam couldn't suppress the chuckle that escaped at the dawning look of awe on her CO's face. She'd surprised a genuine smile out of her Colonel.

"Carter, you read. . . _Spiderman_?" He asked in an almost reverent whisper.

Her smile echoed his as Sam shook her head. "No, not really. Don't forget, Colonel. I have a younger brother. A younger brother who loved to be read to, especially when he was sick."

O'Neill simply stared at her, his expression indecipherable as another memory surfaced and this time Sam blushed. Grateful for the darkness that hid her flushed skin, she remembered an episode of _The X-Files_ when Scully casually identified an aircraft and Mulder quipped that 'suddenly he was really turned on.' And just like that, a light bulb went on in Sam's head.

Oh.

He'd awakened that night just as 'restless' as she had.

 _Twitchy_ , he'd called it.

 _Oh._

Then he'd gone for a run.

Without her.

Very softly, O'Neill's voice reached her. "It was. . .ah, not Peter Parker. It was his Uncle Ben. Uncle Ben said it first."

"Oh, right." She still didn't look at him.

"So. . .that's why."

Now Sam turned to him. "Why, what, Colonel?"

"Why I ran alone."

O'Neill's brown eyes were locked on hers and Sam was caught. She could see in them what he wouldn't say out loud.

 _Couldn't_ say.

And she sighed. There it was again. That. . . _thing_. . .between them.

Sam pulled her gaze from his and turned toward the fire, her thoughts whirling, spiraling out of control. That day, in Apophis' mountain, after their armbands had fallen off. There'd been a moment, a flash. She'd stood and he'd met her at the force shield. He'd crouched down and begun banging at it with the torch handle.

It wouldn't budge.

Behind her, Sam had heard the echo of boots as heavy feet tramped down the corridor toward her. She'd turned and yelled at him to go.

And for an instant, in the space between heartbeats, she'd seen. . .something as his eyes locked with hers.

Then the world had fallen on them.

She knew she was pushing when she spoke again, but. . .it was almost like nudging a sore tooth. Like being a kid and testing to see just. . .how. . .far. . .you could push. Maybe it was the last vestige of a virus Janet swore was gone from her body prompting her to recklessness. Very softly she said, "The General said that we were all under the influence of an alien technology." When he didn't respond she pushed a little more. "I think he called it a 'solid defense.'"

"Sam. . ." A gentle warning.

Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Sam tried to avoid his gaze. He shook his head and waited, and she knew he wouldn't speak until she looked at him. Reluctantly, afraid that everything she'd bottled up for three and a half years would be there for him to read, she lifted her gaze to his.

His eyes were warm, open, reflecting the dancing light of the fire before them. "I wonder, sometimes, how often we can use that 'alien influence' thing?"

"And?" One last step toward that line.

"Sam. . ." This time it was a plea.

Again, in that fleeting microsecond between heartbeats, he asked and she answered. His soft entreaty wrenched at her and Sam closed her eyes and looked away, taking a long mental step back from the line-that-must-not-be-crossed. There was power, she realized, and then there was. . . _power_.

In this case. . .with this man. . .Sam finally understood that _she_ had power.

And the responsibility to use it well.

~ o0o~

End.

~ o0o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: There's a great deal of debate about the origin of that "great power" line, some quoting the bible, others saying it was FDR from a speech that he was going to deliver at the Jefferson Day Dinner in 1945. FDR died the day before but a line from his speech was, "Today we have learned in the agony of war that great power involves great responsibility." (From Nothing to Fear, ed. by Ben D. Zevin). That said, I like the idea that Sam knew it from _Spiderman._


	4. Asking is Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: At end. Thanks, as always, to Tammy for an exceptional (and clarifying) beta on this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after _Crossroads_ , on a planet of my own making. Episode synopsis: _Teal_ ' _c is reunited with his lost love, Shaun_ ' _auc, a woman who claims to have found a way to communicate with her symbiote and defeat the Goa_ ' _uld. SG-1 joins forces with the Tok_ ' _ra in order to put her plan into effect, but a deadly, hidden secret could jeopardizes the operation._

_  
**Asking is Okay**   
_

~ o0o~

 _SGC  
Sam Carter_' _s Lab  
1656 Local (MST)_

 _Sam bit her lip as she listened to the young officer sitting before her. Lieutenant Danning was trembling as she spoke, each word seeming to fall reluctantly from her lips. As her eyes filled again with tears, Sam reached blindly behind her and snagged the box of tissue next to her monitor._

" _Here,_ " _she said, keeping her voice soft, not wanting to stop the Lieutenant once she_ ' _d finally begun speaking. She wished she_ ' _d thought to close the door when Danning had come in, asking haltingly if the_ " _Major had a moment._ " _Sam really didn_ ' _t want anyone to just pop in—a shadow in the hallway caught her eye. As though her thought had summoned him, she glanced up to see a familiar figure framed in the doorway and, despite the pleased twinge that raced through her midsection at his appearance, knew she had to send him away._

 _The Colonel opened his mouth and then froze as he caught Sam_ ' _s miniscule head shake. He flicked his gaze from Sam to the huddled form of the junior officer perched on a stool before her. Catching Sam_ ' _s gaze, he raised an eyebrow in question._

 _Careful not to draw attention to him—or their nonverbal conversation—Sam silently promised him an explanation later. When his eyes tightened in response, she again felt a warmth spread through her. God how she loved. . .that they could speak this way._

 _With a last tilt of his head, O_ ' _Neill reached forward and silently pulled closed the door to Sam_ ' _s lab, leaving it just slightly ajar. Sam knew that would be enough to keep all but the most tenacious intruders out._

 _As the door swung closed, Sam focused her attention once again on the tearful officer before her._

~ o0o~

M3D-316  
15Km ESE of Stargate  
Base of Ancient Ruins  
2115 SGCST (SGC Standard Time)  
Just past sunset, moon rotational time.

"Carter?"

Sam started at the sound of O'Neill's voice. Looking up at the frustrated and slightly puzzled

expression on his face, she realized it probably wasn't the first time he'd called her name. She glanced guiltily around to see if anyone else had noticed her lapse. Their campsite was quieting down and she could hear muffled discussion coming from the adjacent site. Everyone was settling in for the evening. Looking across the fire, she saw that thankfully both Daniel and Teal'c were focused on their own conversation, and the group her Colonel had labeled "the science geeks" were oblivious. . .as usual.

As she regained her bearings a steaming mug of appeared before her eyes and Sam blinked in surprise. She reached automatically to take the mug from him, sniffing and appreciating the warm aroma of. . .chocolate?

She looked over at O'Neill as he settled himself beside her and he shrugged. "Seemed like a good night for it."

"Yeah."

"So," he said, stretching his legs out before the fire. "What's up?"

"Up, Sir?" Sam sipped her rich, chocolately drink.

"Up, Carter." O'Neill waved vaguely with his mug and then turned his brown eyes on her. "Up. . .as in, not down."

Sam hesitated. She thought again of Danning's problem and knew that she was out of her depth. The problem was, that asking for help meant opening a can of worms she wasn't sure she could stomach. Danning had insisted that she was okay with Sam speaking to O'Neill about it, but still. . .Sam knew that once she took this next step, heads would roll.

On the other hand, she couldn't stand the thought of seeing a good officer. . .ruined. . .by what was happening. She sighed, blowing across the top of her still-steaming mug. Either way, she was afraid that Danning's career would be over. At least at the SGC.

Beside her she could feel O'Neill's frustration, though he was keeping it fairly well hidden at the moment. She glanced at him and opened her mouth to speak when Daniel spoke up across the fire.

"Jack?"

"Daniel."

"I'm going to head back over to–"

"Geeksville?"

"Jack."

"Daniel."

"J–"

"O'Neill." Teal'c's deep voice cut through Daniel's predictable response. "I, too, can be found at the other site. There is someone with whom I wish to speak."

Sam looked up to where Teal'c stood, a still form in the deepening darkness. "You okay, Teal'c?"

"I am, indeed, Major Carter."

He offered her a slight bow and Sam knew he was responding to both the question she'd asked and what she had not. It had been barely a week since his return from the weeklong burial services on Chulak and Sam knew that he was still deeply hurting following Shaun'auc's murder. She wondered why he felt the need to go to the other site, though, there was nothing here to remind him of her. Sam turned to Jack, silently asking him what was happening.

Jack glanced at her and, after studying her face for a moment, turned back to Teal'c and nodded. "Fine, T. Do me a favor? Take the leftover gee– er," he glanced again at Sam and then amended his statement, "ah, _scientists_ with you."

Teal'c nodded again and stepped away from the fire without a word, clearly expecting the others to follow. Sam bit back a smile as Daniel tapped Doctors Sorel and Grader on the shoulder, waving them after Teal'c's rapidly disappearing form. When they were gone, Sam turned to O'Neill.

"What's up with Teal'c?"

"Got me."

"Hm." Sam settled deeper into her seat, enjoying the warmth of the blazing fire Teal'c had built earlier. She shifted slightly, enjoying the brief contact of her Colonel's arm against hers. Her enjoyment was marred, however, as she thought again of Karen Danning. Karen didn't have the luxury of enjoying innocent. . .mostly. . .contact with her CO. Nothing about her situation was anything she could enjoy.

O'Neill idly poked at the fire, his attention seemingly on his task, though Sam knew he was focused on her. Sometimes she wondered if he _could_ hear her thinking.

"I can hear you, you know."

"Sir?" She couldn't help it, the word came out an undignified squeak. She cleared her throat, but before she could say anything, he turned to look at her and just shook his head. Not even a real headshake, just a slight twitch.

Sam held his gaze, reveling in the strength and support she saw there. The night deepened around them, bringing with it a dampness that should have permeated everything, but. . .for a time, was held at bay. Deep, throaty calls from the toad-like creatures ranging on the edge of the nearby stream punctuated the silence, adding to the bright snap and crackle of the fire before them. The power of that brown-eyed stare was an almost tangible thing, and Sam realized just how much she depended on that strength.

"I. . .I need your help."

O'Neill kept his gaze on hers as he leaned back and turned to face her. He resettled himself and just waited.

Sam set aside her hot chocolate and turned toward him, her legs crossed. She fidgeted, twisting her hands in her lap, trying to figure out where to start. A second later she reached forward and picked at the laces of her boots, winding them around her fingers in an absent twisting motion. Twice she opened her mouth and twice she changed her mind. The silence between them grew until she was sure her tension was visible. She almost jumped out of her skin when hands reached forward and gently untangled her fingers from her bootlaces.

"You need my help. . .to strangle your bootlaces?" He gave her fingers a quick squeeze and then released her. "I think you've done the job. . .Sam."

That broke the tension. Sam shook her head and took another deep breath. "You know how we have this place," and she gestured toward the fire, "where it's a. . ."

"Penalty-free zone? Yeah."

"I need that to happen now. . .Sir." She couldn't quite bring herself to use his name as he had hers, though she knew that here, in this place, it would be okay.

"Always. Wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

"Okay." With a last deep breath Sam told him everything. "Have you met Lieutenant Danning?" She caught his eye and shrugged. "Right. Sorry. 'Course you have. Anyway. . ." And Sam dove in, telling him everything Danning had shared with her. The stalking, the harassment, the unending phone calls. The threats and the latest thing, the assault. Through it all, O'Neill sat silently, his unwavering gaze on hers, the only outward sign of his reaction was the gradual darkening of his expression. When, finally, she was done, Sam sat quietly, waiting for his response.

And waiting.

After several more long moments, she ducked her head and then leaned forward. He was staring at her, but his expression was blank. Eerily blank. Tentatively, Sam lifted a hand and reached out to rest it on his arm. "Sir?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

O'Neill blinked and then seemed to refocus on her. When he spoke his voice was low and Sam could feel the anger radiating from him. Could feel the vibration of it under her hand. "Does the Lieutenant. . .does Karen," he amended, "know who it is?"

This time it was Sam who held his gaze, willing him to calm down. "Yes."

"Did she tell you?"

"Yes."

"And you're not volunteering that because. . .?"

"Because. . .she came to _me_ , Sir. I'm her section head, she works for me."

"Carter, she's a member of the SGC. She works for the United States Air Force."

"She's a member of _my_ team, Colonel."

"And you, Sam, are _mi–_ a member of _my_ team."

"Sir," Sam took a deep breath, suddenly aware that her hand was still on his arm. She knew she should remove it but she really didn't want to. "Sir, part of the problem is that the. . . _person_. . .doing the. . .causing the problem is part of–"

"Are you telling–" O'Neill cut her off. "This guy is _a member of the SGC?_ "

"Yes."

"Carter!"

"Sir!" Sam reared back at the expression on his face. "Karen was pretty sure it was. . .the person. There was nothing to really tie him to all of it. It's not like he signed his notes."

O'Neill scrubbed his hands through his hair, then dragged his hands down his face. "But," he mumbled as his hands passed his lips, "She's sure?"

"Yeah." Sam dropped her elbows to her knees and rested her chin on her fists. "Since the assault yesterday–"

"And by 'assault' you mean. . .'"

"He threw something at her in the parking lot."

"He hit her?"

"Missed. Scared her, though. Badly."

"Did you report it?"

"She did." Sam grimaced. "The OOD took the report and said he'd speak to. . .the person. She felt like it, the report, wouldn't do more than make the guy angry. . .angri _er_ ," she amended, emphasizing the last syllable. "Karen's offworld with SG-4 for a week, so I'm not worried about her. For now."

"Guess that eliminates anyone on SG-4. So, Car–" O'Neill scrubbed his face again and then mimicked her pose, resting his hands on his knees and leaning forward. "Sam. . .you said you needed my help, but you won't tell me who it is."

"Yes. And. . .no." She gave him a small smile, despite the seriousness of the situation. "I don't want you. . .or Teal'c, or Daniel even, just going and kicking this guy's ass."

"I could, you know." He paused and cocked his head. "And so could you, for that matter."

"I know."

"And I would."

"Yes, Sir." And this time Sam's smile grew. "I need to know how to handle this. I mean, I know we can report him, we can bring him up on charge, we can do the whole 'book tossing' thing at him, but, I want to solve this. . . _creatively_. I want it to _never_ happen again. You know how the SGC rumor mill works" She exchanged a small smile with him, they both knew only too well just how effective the base gossip-line was. "I want everyone to know that this sort of thing will not be tolerated." She ducked her head again and then met his eyes. "Doing it officially could and would be messy. We both know that. So, most importantly, I really want to make sure nothing happens to Karen. She didn't ask for this, she doesn't deserve this."

"Nobody does."

"True."

"That day in your office. . .she was telling you. . ."

"All of it. Yes, Sir." Sam sighed and shifted in her seat, aborting her first urge to fidget again with her laces. "She's convinced that it's her fault. I've tried telling her that it wasn't, that none of Coo–" she sucked in a breath, "uh, the guy's actions are her fault."

O'Neill was silent for a few moments, long enough for Sam to glance up at him, uncertainly. "What else?" He rumbled softly.

"Sir?"

The Colonel took a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving hers. "This sort of thing. . .it usually just makes you mad, Carter. Not. . ." He waved at her hunched figure and fidgeting fingers. "Not. . .whatever it is you are right now."

Sam felt her jaw drop slightly at his words. As they sank in, she straightened up, her fingers loosening their hold on each other. He was right. She'd internalized Danning's issue and. . .and. . .oh, wow. She realized that she was feeling as trapped and hunted as Karen Danning was. And she thought she was long past that.

Some of what she was feeling must have shown in her expression, because O'Neill nodded slightly and leaned toward her. "This wouldn't happen to you, you know."

"Why, because I'm strong? Karen Danning's pretty strong, Sir. And she's caught in this _mess_ that she had no part in making."

"It wouldn't happen to you. . .because. . .well, just because." O'Neill backed off, his color rising as he flicked his gaze away, then back to her.

Sam met his gaze again and felt her heart stutter at the expression on his face.

Fierce.

Protective.

Loving.

"It did," she whispered. "Happen to me. Remember?"

O'Neill's expression changed again as he clearly remembered the team's experience with Jonas Hansen. And what he'd learned after. "That bad?"

"Yes." She shrugged, trying to pass off her experience. "'Course, I _was_ engaged to the guy."

"Doesn't mean you asked for it."

"True."

"Still. . .the _same_ sort of stuff happen to you?"

"Worse."

"Damn." He cocked his head to one side. "Sorry."

She ducked her head for a moment, then looked up at him. "So," she said, trying to take the focus off of her past. "What do I do?"

"We."

"Sir. . ."

"We, Sam. It's _always_ 'we.'"

"Oh."

"Don't forget it." He rubbed his hands together and reached for his coffee cup. "So. . .here's what I think. . ."

And together they worked out a plan, brilliant in its simplicity, but effective. One, Sam hoped, which would prompt Karen's tormentor to request a transfer to. . .Russia worked for her. Sam felt her confidence rise as they talked, appreciating more than once the devious brilliance that made her CO's who he was.

As they wound down, Sam felt the tension drain away. It was really dark now and they'd let the fire burn low as they'd talked. She hunched down deeper into her seat, suddenly aware of the cold and damp now that they were silent. She leaned forward and tossed another log on the fire, then watched as her Colonel poked and rearranged the log to his satisfaction. She allowed herself the rare luxury of simply watching him as he fiddled. Watched his long fingers as they held the branch. Traced the contours of his face limned in burnished firelight.

She wanted to say something to him. To let him know how much it meant to her that she could come to him and that he wouldn't think she was weak.

"Colonel?"

"Hm?"

"At the risk of sounding. . .whatever, I really appreciate knowing I can go to you and say 'help,' and that you're there."

"I meant it, Carter. Always."

He poked a few more times at the fire and then settled back again, crossing his arms and legs and watching the rising flames with an air of satisfaction.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You know. . .if I'd known you then. . .or him. . .I'd have kicked his ass."

"I know."

~ o0o~

End.

~ o0o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: As I've said in the past, I process things by writing. I had an incident this week that made me be Sam. I went to a trusted colleague and mentor and said, "help." In fact, Sam's line about appreciating the she could do so with Jack is just about what I said to my mentor.
> 
> This wasn't the promised _Pi_ story. That'll come after I complete my doctoral qualifying exams (which cover the next two weeks).


	5. Divided We Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This one was co-written by Leiasky, check out her other stuff here at ffdotnet. Other A/N at end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after _Divide and Conquer_ , on a planet of my own making. Episode synopsis: _When a member of the SGC tries to kill a Tok'ra, it is revealed that O'Neill and Carter may be Za'tarc's, a new kind of Goa'uld mind control._

_  
**Divided We Fall**   
_

~ o0o~

P8G-274  
Four hours past sunset (local time)  
2355 SGCS (SGC Standard Time)  
SG-1 Campsite

 _As Sam had for him, the Colonel was standing just behind and to the left of the Tok'ra, carefully watching the monitor._

 _Freya's next question broke into her thoughts. "And . . . what were you feeling when you realized that Colonel O'Neill would not leave?"_

 _Sam's gaze flickered to his and then back to Freya. She carefully avoided looking at either Janet or Teal'c. "I . . . " she swallowed hard. She'd had to prompt the Colonel when he'd hedged, and now she found herself wanting to do the same . . . hedge . . . evade . . .. Again she looked to him and this time her eyes caught his._

 _And held._

 _The lines at the edges of his eyes tightened and he gave the faintest of nods. Sam held onto his warm gaze, taking the lifeline that he offered as she answered. "Angry. Panicked. Frightened."_

" _Why?"_

 _Now Sam returned her attention to Freya, her anger at this exercise, this charade flaring. "Why?"_

" _Yes," Freya calmly looked at her over the console of the machine that would determine Sam's fate. "Why."_

" _Because I knew I was about to die. I could hear them coming behind me." Sam shuddered slightly at the memory of those echoing footsteps. "I knew that they could bring down the force shield and that they'd kill me, then kill . . . him."_

 _Sam heard O'Neill shift and saw him glance down at the monitor, a slight frown on his face. He looked up at her and gave a tiny head shake._

 _Damn._

 _Freya glanced at O'Neill and then up at Sam again, her eyes tightening along with her lips._

 _Sam braced herself. Here it came . . ._

" _Major Carter, you must be completely truthful here. Is that the only reason you were angry and frightened?"_

" _I . . . yes. No. I couldn't . . . I hated that he would have to see me die." Now that she was rolling, she couldn't seem to stop. "I hated that he would die because of me, but mostly I hated that his last memory would be watching a teammate die. And . . ." Sam caught his gaze again as she whispered, "I was angry that he wouldn't leave."_

" _Why." Freya was implacable._

" _Because . . . because . . . I knew that he was making the choice to die with me, and . . . a small part of me was angry with myself for being grateful that he'd be there with me in the end." Her gaze still holding his, Sam felt more than saw his response._

 _Again his eyes flicked to the monitor and again he gave the tiniest of head shakes as the deeper voice of Freya's symbiote came to the fore._

" _Major, you must have more to say. Why would you want a teammate, your commanding officer, to die with you?" Anise's hollow voice echoed through the room._

 _Steeling herself, Sam dove in again, opening herself up to those feelings that had so swamped her, threatened to overwhelm her then . . . just as they were now. "I didn't want my_ commanding officer _to die with me. I didn't want him to die at all."_

 _Her eyes slipped closed for a moment, but almost as quickly came open again. She could almost hear him telling her to look at him. She instead locked her eyes on the body hosting Anise. "I . . . if I was going to die, and I_ knew _that I was, I . . .." Despite her resolve, Sam's gaze slid helplessly over to his and she read in them everything she was trying not to say out loud. Everything that he'd said and more. And that gave her the strength to whisper, finally, "If I only had seconds to live, I wanted to spend them with him."_

 _His eyes widened fractionally in surprise and then he flicked his gaze to the monitor. Sam watched his shoulders relax slightly._

 _Thank God._

 _Freya's eyes flashed and this time the lighter voice of Freya came through, an impatient and somewhat cutting edge to her tone. The Tok'ra, it seemed, was not satisfied. "Why would–"_

" _No." The Colonel's quiet word echoed through the room and grabbed everyone's attention. He lifted his chin and pointed it toward the machine. "I can see as well as you that Carter's swirly stuff is in the blue zone. You're done."_

 _The Tok'ra opened her mouth, but stopped as Teal'c, rising from his seat above them in the control room, bumped something . . . loudly. Freya nodded sharply before she said, "You are also not a Za'tarc."_

" _Thank you," Sam muttered with thinly disguised disgust, her heart pounding so loud she was certain the mic's in the room would pick it up._

 _The words had barely left her lips when the Colonel was stepping forward and reaching for the restrictive band across Sam's head. As Freya began to dismantle her machine, the Colonel said quietly, "Carter–"_

 _Sam interrupted him. "Sir . . . None of this has to leave this room." She held her breath, feeling his own brush her cheek as he stood before her._

 _Finally his eyebrow rose slightly and he said, his voice still low. "I don't think so . . .." He gave her fingers a quick squeeze as he stepped back. "I think we need to talk, Sam."_

 _Numbly Sam stared at him, searching for something she could say that wouldn't incriminate them more than what had just been said. She held his gaze even as Janet and Teal'c entered the room, feeling as if the Earth were tilting off of its axis._

" _Sam? Sam, hey . . ."_

~ o0o~

"Sam, c'mon." The voice was more insistent, and Sam jolted awake suddenly.

"Wait . . . no. That's not how it happened," she muttered, then felt the jolt of disappointment through her entire being as she wished her dream were more like reality.

"Huh?" Daniel's voice penetrated her sleepy haze and Sam swiveled in her sleeping bag, cursing as her legs became further entangled. "That's not how _what_ happened?" Daniel squatted down and peered at her owlishly through his round glasses. "Hey, you okay?"

Rubbing her eyes sleepily, Sam nodded. "Yeah. Yes. I'm fine. I'm up." She looked past him toward the fire. "My watch?"

"Near enough." Daniel stepped back so she could exit the tent. "You were having a bad dream or something, so I though I'd wake you a little early."

"Oh." Sam reached back into the tent to grab her jacket and then paused. She looked around the small space. No Colonel. Turning to Daniel, she shrugged into the jacket and quietly zipped it, her eyes searching the campsite.

Daniel, following her gaze, answered her unasked question. "Jack's in with Teal'c. Asked me to switch." He met her gaze and tipped his head sideways. "Any idea why?"

"No. Maybe he wanted to switch things up."

"Sure."

Sam stretched her neck and shoulders as she walked the perimeter of the fire, careful to not look at it directly, preserving her night vision. She waved once to Daniel before stepping into the trees to take care of business before her watch. A minute later she was back, and she settled herself against the cliff wall that served as their camp's effective windbreak. Absently, she watched Daniel putter as he put aside his things in preparation for his rest, then she turned away, her attention on the woods around them and her thoughts on the events of the week before.

 _Why_ had her dream been different this time? She'd relived those final moments of the Za'tarc test every night since then. The dream of the testing room broken only be the more horrific reliving of running into the Gateroom to find Martouf, his body riddled with bullets, begging her to shoot him before he blew himself, and who know how many others, into pieces. Despite the warmth of her field jacket, Sam shuddered.

"You okay?"

Sam looked up to find Daniel beside her.

"Sure."

He crouched before her and offered her a steaming mug. "You didn't eat much tonight and you went to bed right after dinner."

"I'm tired, Daniel. It's been a rough week."

"I know." He laid a hand on her knee. "Janet asked me to check on you. Make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine." Sam kept her eyes moving around the campsite, her ears sharply focused on the night sounds around them. She loved Daniel, but at the moment she really, _really_ wanted him to go to bed.

And again, like a sharp knife, Sam felt the pain shoot through her.

Daniel would be going to bed soon, in her tent.

The tent she should be sharing with O'Neill.

"Daniel. I'm fine. Go to bed. And when we get back, tell Janet . . . never mind. I'll tell her myself." Sam gave her friend a long look. "Please?"

Nodding, Daniel stood and turned away. "Okay. 'Night Sam."

"'Night."

She turned away as he slipped into her tent . . . into the wrong tent. And this time she didn't fight the small sigh that escaped.

She'd done the right thing. Told O'Neill that none of what they'd said needed to leave the room. It was for his protection as well as for hers. She knew Teal'c would say nothing and, after a short chat with Janet, knew the doctor was on board too. The first rule of command was that "if it wasn't written, it didn't happen." Therefore, nothing went into the reports.

Which meant . . . nothing happened.

For one wild second Sam thought of the old myth about the diary of England's King George in which he supposedly wrote, "Nothing of importance happened today," on the day the colonies declared their independence.

Sam's "nothing happened" was as insubstantial as the myth.

As momentous as the event that was not mentioned, and thus . . . had not happened.

But . . . it _had_.

Already there was a change in how they interacted. The Colonel had "explored" while she and the rest of team ate. When she came near the fire, he stepped away. She found herself doing the same to him.

It was stupid, really. This dance. It wasn't like suddenly saying the words . . . and really, what had they said? That he "cared more than he was supposed to?" What did that exactly _mean_ , anyway? _We're entitled to our feelings, aren't we? As long as we don't_ act _on them._ Shaking her head, Sam shifted slightly, realizing that she'd tensed up every muscle in her body.

Why did things have to change? Why, if they'd both agreed to leave it alone, did he rearrange the sleeping assignments? The watch schedule?

Why had Sam hesitated and then set aside the Tupperware that served as their s'more container?

 _Because . . . because . . . damn it all. And damn the Tok'ra too_ , she thought angrily, wincing a little as she realized she'd lumped her dad into that pile. _Oh, God . . . Dad._ Who knew what Freya would share with the council? Sam shook her head and sighed into the darkness.

Sometimes she could really get behind the Colonel and his uncompromising hatred of the Tok'ra.

Sam flashed again on the words she'd finally whispered to end the testing. _If I only had seconds to live, I wanted to spend them with him._ She let her head drop into her hands with a soft groan. _I can't believe I said that. Out loud._

As soft snore echoing through the campsite told her that Daniel had dropped off and Sam lifted her head again, forcing her attention back to her surroundings. Great. To add to her misery she had to sleep next to a snoring Daniel.

 _Damned Tok'ra._

As the night wore on, the events of the last week continued to swirl around Sam's head. Images flashed before her.

The Colonel as he looked back at her while he was escorted down the hall to be "fixed" by Freya.

Martouf.

The Colonel's face as he recounted the events that led to Lieutenant Astor's suicide.

The pain of reliving those endless moments in the hallway, waiting for the Jaffa to round the corner and blast her . . . and him . . . to hell. And that soul-shaking moment when they'd both frozen and she'd seen it in his eyes. Everything she felt for him reflected back.

Terror.

Elation.

Fear.

Pain.

Love.

She'd known for a long time that she loved O'Neill more than she should. More than was proper. More than was allowed. She'd had flashes in the past that he felt the same, but to see it. To _feel_ it in that moment. And selfishly, to know that when she died she'd do so looking into his eyes . . . Sam let her eyes slip closed for just a second in remembered pain.

"Sleeping on the job, Carter?"

Sam's eyes snapped open at O'Neill's soft voice. God, she hadn't heard him approach.

"No, Sir. Of course not." She glanced at him, peering through the dense blackness of the night. She could tell from his tone that he hadn't thought she'd been asleep, but . . . where once there would have been a teasing lightness to his question, now it seemed . . . flat.

She lifted the cover of her watch and lit the indigo backlight. "It's, ah, early for your turn, Colonel."

"It is." O'Neill settled himself beside her, and she noted that he was careful . . . very careful not to touch her.

Since it was still her watch, Sam didn't move. She shifted slightly away to give him more room, then froze at his quiet, "Don't."

"Sir?"

"Carter . . .."

She watched as O'Neill silently fiddled with a lump of dirt and rock. He picked it apart and crumbled the brownish fragments between his fingers. He looked up once in a while, squinting and frowning toward the tents, then back down again. Finally, Sam could take it no longer.

"Sir?"

"Yeah?"

"Talk to me."

O'Neill tossed the last of the rock away and jammed his hands into his jacket pockets. "You know our . . . 'thing'?"

That zing shot through Sam again. "Th– Our . . . ah . . . ?"

Waving toward the glowing embers of their earlier fire, O'Neill clarified. "The 'home-base,' zone."

 _Oh, that._ She nodded. "The 'no never-minds' and it's okay to speak freely? That thing. Sure."

O'Neill sucked in a long, deep breath. "I don't wanna lose that. You know?"

"You don't?"

"I don't."

"But . . . then why . . .." Sam swallowed. "Colonel, _you_ rearranged the watch schedule. You . . . um . . . you put Daniel in with me."

"I did."

Turning to face him, she studied what she could see of his features, chiseled by the dim light of the fire. "I'm confused."

"So'm I, Carter."

"Oh."

He absently pulled at a leaf dangling from a small twig at their feet. She was suddenly annoyed by the distraction. He had a purpose in coming to her and she wished he'd get to it already. Take that step so she could follow.

"She kissed me."

Sam blinked a few times in rapid succession as she mentally changed gears to follow him, her brilliant mind fumbling for the identity of the unnamed woman.

"Uhm."

"Anise. Freya. The snake's . . . body." O'Neill shuddered slightly.

A wave of horror swept through Sam and she was grateful for the darkness that hid her jealous disgust. No wonder Freya had pushed to continue the 'interrogation.' "Oh."

" _So_ not how I expected that day to go."

"Understatement, Sir."

The poor, harmless leaf was shredded little by little by his long fingers. "That room–"

"Yeah." She couldn't help the flicker of hope that sparked from the single word. A single, fragile flame.

"We'll open it one day."

A promise.

Relief swept through her. She leaned back and let the flickering flames warm the growing smile. "Yeah."

Accepted.

~ o0o~

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note(s): As I said above, this one was co-written by Leiasky, she fixed my broken mojo.
> 
> I've said before I think there are setups to the romance/resolution, then major "resets" along the way ( _BTS_ is a HUGE setup and the aftermath a HUGE reset, for example). Originally this post _D &C_ fic was to be a reset, but I couldn't make that happen. This did instead.
> 
> Second note: Kudos to _Xena_ fans who can pick out the paraphrasing of one of the most beautiful lines in a television love story.


	6. Loopholes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank again (as always) to Leiasky for the great beta and the tightening up. Brilliant as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after _Window of Opportunity_ , on a planet of my own making. Episode synopsis: _O'Neill and Teal'c are caught in a time loop in the SGC, and must relive the same 10 hours over and over again. During this "looping," O'Neill figures out that there are some things he can do with absolutely no consequences._

_  
**Loopholes**   
_

~ o0o~

P4R-604

15 km ENE of Stargate

Two hours past planetary sunset

16:50 SGC time

Jack O'Neill sat hunched near the campfire, idly listening to the quiet conversations of his team as they settled in for the evening. He occasionally poked at the fire with the stick dangling from his long fingers, but his attention was not wholly on his task. He sat, one elbow on his raised knee, his chin propped in the palm of his hand. Across the crackling blaze sat Daniel, his nose buried in his journal, another book open and in danger of falling from his lap. Beside Daniel was Carter, muttering to him and occasionally pulling the tattered journal closer to make a small notation in either it or the small notebook she, too, had propped on her raised knees. She had a flashlight clenched between her teeth as she wrote; clearly the light from the campfire wasn't enough to illuminate whatever profound inspiration was striking at the moment.

Behind him, Jack heard Teal'c as he made his nearly silent way through the camp. He knew the Jaffa would have been making another round of the perimeter of their campsite, but Jack wasn't too concerned. They'd been on the planet for nearly a week, a very long time for SG-1 to remain . . . at least willingly, and there had yet to be any sign of recent inhabitation. They'd been held against their will for longer, but for a survey mission, well, that usually wasn't his team's thing. Though, lord knew his team needed a lighter mission, which was why Jack hadn't argued at drawing this assignment. As he watched Carter squint again at her notes, Jack reached around and tossed another log onto the fire, poking at the embers until the flames grew enough to cast a brighter light. She flicked her gaze up at him and flashed him a dazzling smile in thanks before returning to his work.

Jack felt his heart stop.

Then start again, at a much faster pace.

He looked quickly away from her, focusing his attention back on the fire, his attention light years away. The memory of sweeping her into his arms in the control room was still fresh. So fresh that he felt himself responding, and he carefully shifted his position to keep that response from being noticed by anyone else.

Of all the times he'd kissed her in the loop, he was sure nothing would surpass that first time.

~ o0o ~

 _Jack strode confidently up the last two steps into the control room, not at all uncomfortable about being there dressed as he was. He stepped up beside a stunned General Hammond and nodded._

" _Excuse me, George."_

" _Colonel, what are you doing out of uniform?"_

 _At his words, Carter snapped her head around, her eyes widening in shock as she took in Jack's unusual attire. His baggy trousers, long-sleeved yellow shirt and, to add that little bit of flair, the beanie cap. He raised an eyebrow at Carter and turned to Hammond. "Handing you my resignation."_

" _Resigning?" Sam stood in shock, turning to face him. "What for?"_

 _Jack looked her square in the eye. "So I can do . . ." he checked his watch one last time, "_ this _." Jack wrapped his arms around her, and in a move he was certain was worthy of Rhett Butler himself, smoothly swept her into a low dip, his lips firmly planted on hers. He felt first her surprised stiffness and then her almost instantaneous relaxation into his arms. She trusted him to hold her and to not let her fall._

 _Then she reached up and slid her arms around his neck, giving herself fully up to the moment . . . and to him. And Jack was lost. The texture and taste of her was overwhelming. The smell of her, the feel of her arms around his neck, of her body held tightly to his, and he was . . . was . . ._

 _Back in the commissary, facing Daniel's expectant gaze, his body still alive with the memory of her touch._

~ o0o ~

Jack shuddered as once again the sensation of that first time swept over him. This time his motion did not go unnoticed.

"Colonel?" Carter's voice was soft as she sat beside him. "Are you okay?"

Startled to find her beside him, Jack reared back in surprise before he caught himself. How'd she get from the other side of the fire to over here without him noticing? Damn. He shook his head, then stopped as her expression grew more concerned.

She placed a hand on his arm, her fingers tightening slightly. "Sir?" She kept her voice low, clearly not wanting Daniel to notice his apparent illness.

The warmth of her hand on his arm while his body was still remembering that first kiss and the many others that had followed was almost Jack's undoing. He gently pulled his arm free, giving her a small smile to ease any sting his pulling away might cause. "I'm good, Carter. Just . . . dunno. Tired I guess. Twitchy. We _have_ been here a while."

Looking as if she weren't completely convinced by his answer, Carter nonetheless leaned back, lifting her knees and resting her chin on one knee. "Getting restless for some action?"

 _Oh, you have no idea_ , came unbidden to Jack's mind before he could help himself. Clearing his throat, he nodded. "Something like that."

"Well, we're about done here, I think. The readings I got today confirm what we thought about the mineral deposits. And, really, there are enough gem signatures on the scanner to generate a great deal of income on Earth, if we dared bring some back to cut and sell."

When Jack looked at her, she raised an eyebrow. "Hey, something's gotta pay to keep the gate running, right? I'm pretty sure we wouldn't saturate the market, but there's got to be a way to fund some of our operations with finds from other planets."

"Find any gold yet?"

Carter snorted softly, reaching behind her to fish in her bag. She pulled out a small tea bag and reached for the mug he'd set there earlier to warm. "No. I'm sure the Goa'uld have taken what was available from any place they could."

After she'd dropped her tea bag in to steep she automatically pulled out another packet and began mixing some coffee for him. Her movements were unconscious, he was sure, but he couldn't help the warmth that spread through him of the simple domesticity of the act. He had done the same for her earlier during dinner, making her meal and tea and setting it beside her without a word. She'd simply nodded and begun eating, offering him a brief smile on thanks. He did the same now as she handed him his steaming mug.

"Thanks." He took the mug, carefully keeping his fingers from touching hers. "Probably to make more gold lamé. They do seem to love the stuff."

"Colonel, you don't make–" She stopped and tipped her head at him before offering him a small smile. "Funny, Sir."

Jack shrugged, glad his body was finally settling down again. "I try."

They sat in silence, Carter sipping her tea while he tried to pretend the coffee she'd made had been freshly brewed and not stirred out of a packet. As much as he loved these quiet interludes with her beside any campfire offworld, the biggest drawback was the lack of _real_ coffee. He glanced at her firelit profile beside him, her expression uncharacteristically relaxed and free from the everyday tension that was so often present, and he decided that the tradeoff was worth it.

Another hour passed before Jack spoke up. "Daniel."

"Jack?" Daniel didn't look up from his notes.

"If you're on the early watch, you might want to turn in."

"Huh?" Daniel looked at his watched and yawned. "Wow, didn't realize it was so late." He glanced around as he packed up his things. "Teal'c out there somewhere?"

Carter gestured with her chin to the south end of the campsite. "Just beyond those trees."

As Daniel peered into the darkness, Jack couldn't squelch the small zing of pride at his Second. _He'd_ known where Teal'c was, of course. He'd heard the Jaffa's nearly silent progress around the site until he'd found what Jack figured was the optimal place from which to watch both the campsite and the surrounding area. He hadn't realized Carter was that aware too.

Not that Jack didn't know or trust her skills. After three and a half years as a team, they all knew each other's strengths and weaknesses well. Very well. But . . . well, sometimes she surprised him, his brainy Second. And he loved when she did that. Caught him off-guard with a new twist on a strategy or plan, offered a new approach to an old idea, or showed a field battle sense that spoke of experience and quiet confidence.

As much as he would love to take credit for it, Jack knew that Carter's growth as an officer wasn't due in any way to him. If anything, he was showing her how _not_ to follow orders. But, in the end, she was an officer whom he was proud to have under his command, all other . . . _things_ . . . aside.

Daniel stuffed his last book into his bag and stretched, yawning again. He tipped his head back and looked up toward the sparkling night sky. Carter was already doing the same, apparently lost in thought. Jack glanced from one to the other, then joined them in their stargazing and letting his body relax in the stillness of the evening.

"Sometimes . . . you know, when we're all caught up and getting . . ." Daniel's voice trailed off.

"Shot at?"

"Yes, Jack. Shot at." Daniel threw him a glance before returning his gaze to the diamond lights dancing above them. "Sometimes I forget . . . you know . . ."

"How beautiful it all is." Carter's voice was soft beside Jack, and he wondered if Daniel even heard her.

"Yeah. Sometimes it's nice to just . . . look at it all, and remember why it is that we do what we do."

"So other people can do this."

"Yeah."

Jack listened to the two talk, content to observe them both as they contemplated their place in the universe. Or, at least in this galaxy.

Daniel leaned back further, crossing his arms behind his head, still looking up at the stars. Jack watched as Carter did the same and then shrugged. _Why not?_ He, too, rocked backward, carefully aiming his feet away from the fire, now burning low enough to not impede their view of the glistening night sky above them. As Daniel and Carter had, he crossed his arms behind his head, resting his head on the palms of his hands. His elbow bumped Carter's, but when she didn't pull away, he left it there.

The damp smell of the night air mingled with the earthy smell of the loamy turf on which they'd built their campsite, and Jack could occasionally smell the light, strawberry scent of Carter's shampoo. All the scents blended to further relax him, and Jack tuned in to the night around them. Insects large and small sang their songs into the quiet night, and occasionally a distant howl echoed in the hills beyond, reminding them that there was other life on this planet. Jack was falling into a light almost-doze when Daniel spoke again, his arm lifted toward the northeast sky.

"Sam, how can that bunch of stars look like the Big Dipper?"

Jack followed Carter's gaze toward where Daniel was pointing and he saw what Daniel meant, although . . . "Daniel, if that's Big Dipper, it's facing the wrong way."

"It's a coincidence" Carter spoke up. She pointed to the southern sky. "Down there is a bunch that looks like the Southern Cross."

"Huh," Daniel sighed. "I've always wanted to see that."

"Well, now you can," Jack quipped. "And it only took . . . Carter?"

"Five hundred-thousand light years," she supplied.

"Right. Five hundred . . . _thousand_? You're kidding."

"Sir," Carter turned to face him. "Do you _ever_ listen during the briefings?"

"Sure I do." Okay, he mostly listened to _her,_ but . . . anyway. He shot her a small smile and turned back to Daniel. "So, it took a three second, five hundred thousand light year trip" he repeated with a wry smile in her direction, "to see it." He waved a hand, "G'wan, enjoy it."

Daniel's snort covered Carter's soft chuckle, and both sounds warmed Jack through. He, too, began to examine the bright configurations above him and noticed various patterns here and there. In fact, one of them looked just like . . . where had he seen that before?

Daniel's arm came up again and he pointed out another constellation near where Jack was focused. "That one looks a lot like Cassiopeia.

"I was just thinking that," said Sam.

"The one next to it looks like another one, but I can't think of the name."

"It's Cygnus." Sam's voice was softer, as if she, too, were drifting off.

Jack frowned, he was sure he'd seen that constellation recently, though he hadn't been stargazing a lot lately. Not with the time loop and all that went with catching up with the rest of the galaxy. It didn't matter. He felt himself relaxing as the two talked, his mind wandering and his body going still as he drifted slightly, secure in the presence of his two scientists and solid Jaffa companion.

Daniel rose and brushed off his trousers. "You know what's funny? I have freckles on my leg and they look just like Orion."

Carter raised herself on her elbows. "No way."

"I do, look." Daniel glanced down and frowned. "Remind me when we get back, I'll show you." At Carter's silence, he added quickly, "It's just above my knee."

"That's kind of neat."

"I always thought so." Daniel bent to grab his bag and stepped around the fire to say goodnight. "What about you, Sam? You're much more freckled than I am. Got any interesting patterns?"

"I don't think so. Never really looked, actually."

"Sure she does," Jack muttered sleepily. "Got a swan on the back of her neck."

Total silence fell over the camp, broken only by the occasional snap of the dying flames. The sudden silence brought Jack to full alertness, though he didn't move. What had . . . _oh . . . crap._

 _Crap. Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap._

 _Double-crap._

He slowly raised his head and looked first to Daniel and then to Carter.

Daniel's eyebrows were raised so high that Jack could clearly see them over the frames of his glasses. Carter lay frozen, propped up onto her elbows, her face turned toward him. Her blue eyes were wide and for just a second, Jack wasn't certain she was breathing.

"Um, okay." Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose, glancing quickly between the two of them. He tossed a thumb over his shoulder as he backed quickly away, then offered a sharp nod and walked quickly toward the tent he shared with Teal'c.

How long Jack stayed there, his eyes locked with Carter's, he didn't know. He was relieved to see that she was breathing, though when he looked closer, he could see her nostrils flare slightly.

 _Uh oh, flaring nostrils. Probably not good._

 _Or . . . maybe good._

 _But . . . no. Probably not._

Jack sat up, careful to not touch her as he did so and he kept his gaze carefully on hers, as if her were suddenly faced with a trapped animal. The silence was deafening and finally he couldn't take it any more. "Ah, Carter . . . "

He stopped as she abruptly moved, sitting up and crossing her legs, resting her elbows on her knees. She propped her chin up with her closed fists and just stared at him, her expression calculating. Jack schooled his expression as carefully as he could, concentrating on keeping his features relaxed and calm.

 _Don't think about the kiss. Don't think about the kiss. Don'tthinkaboutthekiss!_

 _Don't think about sweeping her into your arms. In the control room. In front of Hammond._

 _In the hallway._

 _In the commissary._

 _In her lab._

 _In her quarters._

 _In his quarters._

 _In the gym._

 _In the infirmary._

 _In his office._

 _In Hammond's office._

 _In the Gateroom._

 _In the elevator._

 _Oh . . . the elevator._

For one fleeting instant his composure slipped as the memory of _that_ particular instance rocketed through his body. That was the one that had convinced him to stop. To go back to solving the problem. A lot more would have happened in a great many other places . . . and in more depth had he not stopped after the elevator.

He hadn't taken that particular elevator since.

Jack knew the exact moment she figured it out. Her eyes narrowed slightly, then widened. She slowly lifted a hand to her neck, running her fingers lightly over the skin above her collar. He watched her movements, unable to tear his gaze away. As she touched her neck, she kept her eyes on his, her face expressionless. Finally, Jack could take it no more. He carefully reached across the space between them and wrapped his fingers around hers, guiding her hand to the right position. Just below and behind her left ear between the back of her neck and the carotid artery, then he slid her fingers down below the collar of her shirt and stopped just at the curve of her shoulder.

He didn't need to see it to know he was in exactly the right place. He had seen that tantalizing arrangement of freckles the third or fourth time he'd kissed her in the loop, nuzzling his way down her neck, and every time thereafter. He'd known instantly what constellation it was, because it so suited her.

Cygnus.

The Swan.

He'd visited it every loop after that. Until the elevator.

Now he saw it only in his dreams.

He pulled his hand away, leaving hers in place, his eyes on hers and waiting for her to say something.

Anything.

"The loop?" Her voice was low, with barely any inflection.

"Yeah."

"Do I . . . do I have any . . . _other_ . . . constellations that you're aware of?" She asked flatly.

Again, her voice was low and Jack was on pins and needles trying to interpret her tone. He slowly shook his head. Her face breathing hitched and her eyes darkened dangerously. Jack hastened to add, "I don't know. I never . . . we, _I_ , didn't, ah . . ."

The tightly coiled tension that had gripped her slowly slid away and Jack felt himself go slack with relief. Something flickered in her eyes and he added, "Carter, I–"

"No."

He stopped, waiting for her to say what she needed to say. She wanted off of the team. She didn't trust him. He'd betrayed her. He hadn't thought of it like that in the moment and she'd never responded that way when he'd kissed her. Each time. In fact, as he'd moved the moment back earlier and earlier in the time loop, she'd objected when he'd _stopped_ , and wouldn't _that_ little sound of protest stay with him forever?

Jack forced himself to focus as she studied him, her attention as deep and searching as when she was trying to divine the secrets of some ancient technology, and he tried not to analyze that parallel too closely. The fire burned low, down to embers before she spoke, and her voice was so low that he had to lean close to hear her.

"I'd wondered, you know. When Daniel asked you. And from the look on your face, I'd wondered." She pulled in a long, shuddering breath. "I wondered, too, what _I_ would have done, had I been in that situation."

"Carter, we'd have looped once and you would have fixed it."

She raised an eyebrow and said quietly, "Don't be so sure of yourself. Sir," she added the honorific just long enough after for him to realize he'd been put oh-so-gently into place. And then he wondered to which thing she was referring.

"Um, sure of myself about . . ."

Carter shifted, raising her knees and wrapping her arms around her legs. She stared into the glowing embers of the flames for a while, then tipped her face toward his, her cheek resting on her knees. "I may have figured out _how_ to fix it sooner, but that doesn't mean I would have . . . _done_ it right away."

It was Jack's turn to freeze, and he stared at her. "Ah."

"I guess we'll never know."

"Guess not."

The night wore on around them as they sat together staring at the orange heat chasing shadows around the superheated coals of the remains of the fire. Jack was pretty certain he'd dodged a bullet on this one, but a part of him was wondering what happened next. Carter knew. She _knew_ he'd crossed a line and taken advantage of a situation . . . of _her_ . . . and she'd admitted that she might have done the same.

Where did that leave them?

As the small moon rose over the jagged peaks to the west, Carter glanced at her watch and then sighed. "I'll go relieve Teal'c."

She rose and brushed the dust off of her trousers. As she stepped away, Jack couldn't resist. He reached to snag her wrist and then stopped, calling out to her instead. "Carter, are we okay?"

Her face hidden in shadow, she answered softly, "Yes." She reached down to grasp the hand he'd lifted in her direction, tangling her fingers with his.

His heart stuttered again.

"The Swan? Really?"

Now a faint note of warmth colored her tone and Jack heard the undercurrent of humor in her question.

His fingers tightened on hers and he said softly, "Yes."

She tugged and Jack let her pull him to his feet, knowing he needed to get some rest before his turn at watch. As he got to his feet, she didn't move, so that when he stood she was near enough that he could feel the heat of her before him. She gave his fingers one last squeeze and turned to pick up her jacket and weapon before stepping out of the faint light of the fire to relieve Teal'c.

Jack watched her go, thinking of the long and graceful curve of her neck and how appropriate it was that she had a constellation to match forever branded on her skin.

And in his memory.

~ o0o ~

End.


	7. Waterlogged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after _Watergate..._. Episode synopsis: _SG-1 joins forces with a Russian scientist to investigate a previously unknown Stargate in Siberia, linked to a mysterious water planet. The team must venture via submarine to the water planet, where they encounter an unexpectedly terrifying alien presence that just might destroy them all._

_  
**Waterlogged**   
_

~ o0o ~

Earth

Colorado Springs

Jack O'Neill's backyard

1854 SGC-Standard

"I'm thinking of putting in a pool."

The Colonel's words startled Sam out of her reverie and she looked up at him, wondering at his non sequitur. He glanced at her and then over to where Cassie and Daniel were busily shooting each other with the large water guns Teal'c had discovered on a recent trip to the store. Both teen and anthropologist were thoroughly soaked, as were significant portions of the back porch. Teal'c was nowhere to be seen.

"A pool?" She tipped her head and studied his yard. It was certainly large enough to accommodate one, but... "Um, why?"

O'Neal sat down beside her and began stacking the wood he'd brought over earlier. He was precise and efficient in his movements, and Sam couldn't help but watch him. She really did love his hands. Long, almost elegant hands, they were nimble and strong, and she was sure they could do just about anything... Abruptly shaking her head, Sam felt a sudden heat rise up her cheeks.

 _What the heck is wrong with me, lately?_ Over the past few weeks she'd been having more and more of those types of thoughts. One innocent comment or movement from him and her mind would go...where it most certainly should _not._

"Bad idea, eh?"

"Huh?" _Of course it's a bad idea. I shouldn't be...oh._ Still flushed, both from her inadvertent fantasy and embarrassment, Sam turned to him, floundering for something coherent to say.

"The pool?" O'Neill raised his eyebrows at her. "You okay, Carter? You're all red and I haven't even gotten the fire started yet."

 _Oh yes you have_ , came unbidden to her mind before she could shut it down. _Stop it!_ Trying to recover herself, Sam looked away from his concerned brown gaze, trying to spot Janet. "Um, why would you put in a pool, you're hardly ever here."

"Dunno. For Cassie, I guess." O'Neill looked a little uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I guess Janet's yard is a bit small for that."

"Small for what?" The doctor in question appeared beside them, laden with drinks for everyone. "Colonel, I hope you don't mind, but I went ahead and poured for everyone. " She set the tray of steaming mugs on the picnic table behind Sam. "We've got coffee or hot chocolate."

"'Course I don't mind." O'Neill wave a hand. "Mi casa, and all that."

"Thanks." Janet settled into the least rickety chair on the other side of the firepit, automatically seeking out and finding her daughter and Daniel where were now cornered against the porch and mercilessly being fired upon by a smiling Jaffa. "So, Colonel. What's small?"

 _I'll bet it's not sm– Oh man,_ Sam thought. _Why is everything anyone saying today coming out dirty in my head?_ She shook her head again and rubbed her forehead.

O'Neill looked at her before turning to answer Janet. "I was thinking of putting in a pool. You know, for Cassie." He looked at Sam again. "Sure you're okay, Carter?"

"I'm fine, Sir. Just...headache I guess." She immediately regretted her words when Janet immediately rose and came around the now merrily crackling fire. Before the doctor could touch her, Sam leaned back, bumping into O'Neill as she did so, which did nothing to bring down her skin temperature. "Really, Janet. I'm fine. Got some water in my ear earlier during the water fight, I think.

Janet frowned but refrained from reaching out, though Sam saw her hand twitch. "Okay, but...if that headache gets worse, you let me know." When Sam frowned at her, Janet stared back. "I'm not thrilled with the medical care SG-1 received from the Russians."

"Fine," Sam shrugged. "I will."

"I'll hold you to that, Carter."

 _Hold...hold...hold you..._. Crap. Jumping to her feet, Sam turned and strode toward the house, making an excuse about needing to go to the bathroom, unaware of the open-mouthed stares of her CO and her friend behind her. The minute she stepped through the sliding doors, she realized she'd made an even bigger mistake. The house smelled overwhelmingly of _him_ , making it even harder to get him out of her head.

 _What the hell is wrong with me?_ Her inability to reign in her thoughts and...impulses...was beginning to frighten her. She'd begun having odd dreams after the team's experience with the time loop and wondered if it was a side effect of that. Fractured images, feelings and, more recently, one or two of the hottest dreams she'd ever experienced. She was surprised by that last, she'd never been one to really fantasize, but these night- and day-dreams had been so clear, so... _vivid_... Sam shuddered again. As she walked through O'Neill's house to the bathroom, she flashed back to the one from just this morning.

~ oOo ~

 _Sam signed in, nodding to the duty Sergeant at the desk near the elevator that would take her down to the SGC levels. She smiled as she noted that she was just minutes behind O'Neill. She checked her watch, pleased that she had enough time to stop by the labs before heading to her own office. She wanted to check on–_

 _As the doors closed behind her, she froze. The familiar smells of the base's equipment mixed with the subtle scent of whomever it was who'd ridden in the car before she'd come on, assaulting her senses and paralyzing her. It smelled like...oh, God._

 _She shook her head as she was assailed by the oh-so-familiar scent of O'Neill's aftershave, mixed with the metallic tang of the elevator, the recycled air of the base's ventilation system, and the faint scent of her own shampoo. All of them combined to form a swirling, twisting almost-memory in her head. She closed her eyes, desperately trying to catch the fragment of memory whispering through her mind, echoing a particularly . . . . graphic . . . dream from the night before._

 _Sam sagged against the wall as her body responded to remembered . . . or dreamed . . . touches._

 _Kisses._

 _Caresses._

 _The fain whisper of words chased themselves tantalizingly around her head, just out of reach of her understanding. She reached to steady herself against the wall, only vaguely aware of her hand shaking. of her breath coming in short gasps. She was overwhelmed by it all. The scent of . . . oh, God. Him. She could smell him._

 _And her._

 _And . . . them._

 _She let out a faint moan as her other hand came into contact with the wall, blindly reaching out for something, anything to ground her. Her legs started to give way from the overwhelming scents and sensations assaulting her._

 _She nearly jumped out of her skin with the doors opened again behind her and she saw the duty Sergeant peering in at her. "Major? You okay? I noticed the elevator hadn't gone down and–"_

 _Pulling herself together, Sam nodded. "I'm okay, Sergeant. Just distracted, I guess." She gave him a quick nod and punched the number for the floor that would take her to her own lab. The other results could wait. She needed to find a place to think for a bit._

 _Mostly, though, she just needed to sit._

~ oOo ~

Sam emerged from the bathroom to find her Colonel lounging against the opposite hallway wall.

"What's goin' on?" He asked in his most no-nonsense voice, his keen brown eyes carefully searching hers for some sign of distress.

His expression was serious and Sam knew she'd have to give him some answer or he wouldn't be satisfied. Worse, he might sic Janet on her and that would be troublesome on more than one level. Thinking quickly, she finally said, "Just thinking about Dr. Markova."

O'Neill's face twisted as it usually did when they were discussing the Russians. Or the Goa'uld. Or the Tok'ra. Or any other group or person he didn't much like. He waved her down the hallway and followed a few paces behind. "What about her?"

They stepped outside and Sam noticed that night had fallen quickly. It always did when the sun settled behind Pike's Peak, but sometimes the rapidity of the darkness caught her off guard. She waited for O'Neill to close the doors, and together they walked slowly toward the firepit. "She was so upset when we found her team. I can't imagine what she must have been feeling."

"Yeah."

Sam dropped to her cushion between the picnic bench and the fire. She slid her knees up and rested her chin atop one, while she wrapped her arms around her legs. Across the fire Janet was handing Cass a set of dry of clothes and sending her up to the house while Teal'c and Daniel took turns squirting the remainder of their water into the fire. O'Neill quickly grabbed Cassie's discarded weapon and joined them, the three of them beginning an impromptu target practice game. Janet caught Sam's eye and shook her head at the guys' behavior before relaxing back in her chair, her coffee mug cradled in her hand.

Sam watched her guys, a small smile playing across her lips. Teal'c, the big, bad Jaffa who had most of the base personnel either on pins and needles or on a pedestal–and was firmly wrapped around the finger of one young teenager. Then there was Daniel, her brother in all but blood, complaining that the sight was off on his water gun as Teal'c and the Colonel consistently outshot him on their targeted log.

Her gaze shifted to O'Neill.

~ oOo ~

 _Leaving Daniel to stare pensively out of the front bubble of the submersible, Sam joined Dr. Markova. "Can I help at all?"_

 _When Markova looked up, her eyes were damp with tears and her expression so bleak that for a moment Sam couldn't breathe. She glanced over her shoulder at Daniel, who was now peering intently at the ruins around them and scribbling on a scrap of paper he'd pulled from somewhere._

" _Dr. Markova," Sam waved to the still smoking panel. "Can it be fixed?"_

 _Markova sniffed. "Please, call me Svetlana. Or Svetla if you prefer. This," she gestured to the part in her hand, her Russian accent thicker than earlier. "This is nothing. I am sorry to have alarmed you, Major. I...it was just..." Again her eyes filled with tears and Sam couldn't help but reach out and touch the other woman's arm._

" _Call me Sam." She thought of the bodies of the men they'd seen as they'd exited the wormhole, as well as those at the Russian base. "I am sorry," she offered. "For your friends. Your comrades."_

" _Yes," Svetla sniffed again. "Comrades indeed." She handed Sam a small circuit board and a soldering iron. "Can you reattach here...and here?"_

 _Grateful for something to do, Sam nodded. The two worked together in silence for a few moments, before the Russian spoke again. "I am sure I do not seem very 'Russian' to you, Major."_

" _Sam," Sam reminded her. "And there is nothing wrong in mourning lost friends."_

" _Sam." Svetla nodded. She kept her eyes on her work and continued speaking, her voice low, almost as if she were speaking to herself. "I do not understand it. Why would Misha decide to open it? What could have made him–" She choked back another sob, brushing almost angrily at her tears._

" _Svetla..." Sam set the circuit board aside. "Misha...he was...you were close?"_

" _Yes." Svetla turned her face toward Sam's. "Misha...Mikhail Sarkalov. He was in charge."_

 _Sam could only keep her eyes on the other woman's, offering what support she could, while Markova spoke._

" _He was...we were...what is your word? Bespoken? Betrothed?"_

" _Engaged?"_

" _Da, yes."_

" _But," Sam couldn't help herself. "He is, was, your...I mean, you were his second in command."_

" _I was." Markova reached for the circuit board Sam had soldered. She sent Sam a weak smile and gave a shrug that was, to Sam's experience, purely Russian in its expressiveness. "What are you to do, Sam, when your heart decides who to love?"_

 _Sam dropped her gaze from Svetla's, remembering O'Neill's soft 'Be careful,' as the submersible had slipped through the gate. The tiny camera hadn't allowed her to see his eyes clearly, but she'd felt his concern, and the warmth of his voice in her ear one last time had stayed with her._

 _Markova snapped the cover back place, jarring Sam from her thoughts. The Russian scientist looked over at Sam, her expression still solemn. "It was he...his body...whom we saw when we first came through."_

" _Oh, God." Sam blinked back tears. "I am so sorry, Svetla."_

 _With a deep sigh, Markova nodded. "Thank you." She peered up at Sam. "And, I, too, am sorry if our arrogance in our own endeavor keeps you from your own Colonel."_

 _Sam blinked and shook her head. "Oh, he's not, I mean–"_

 _Markova turned in the small space and looked Sam in the eye. "Major, doe not forget. I have read every mission report, every scrap of information available on the SGC, including you and your team." She stopped and paused. "Like any good scientist, I have become just as adept at reading what is_ not _written as much as what is."_

 _When Sam shook her head again, Markova pressed on, an almost desperate urgency to her tone. "We are not so different, you and I. I recognize more in your reports than you might ever understand." She turned back to her repairs. "I have read your work and you have read mine. Let us not mince words. We are, both of us, women of tremendous knowledge and ability. We are also in a unique position to know and understand the mysteries of the universe but to also know and understand the deeper mysteries of life...and of love." She glanced again toward the glass bubble that gave a view of a world long dead. "Do not waste what you have. Your knowledge, or your opportunity. One will last, one can be taken in an instant." She turned away from Sam and bent low into the compartment. "Now, please excuse me, I must check another circuit."_

 _Sam nodded, giving the woman the space she'd requested. There was nothing more to check, she was sure. She was more certain when she heard another muffled sniffle come from the bottom of the small space. Backing out of the niche, she stepped to the console, hoping she could find some answers there._

~ oOo ~

"Okay, Carter, that's it. What's wrong with you tonight?" O'Neill's exasperated voice cut through Sam's memories and she blinked, coming back to herself.

"Sir?" She had no idea how much time had passed, but Cassie was back, sitting next to her mom and happily roasting marshmallows. The smell was tantalizing. Daniel and Janet were chatting and Teal'c was silently sitting nearby, leafing through a book Cassie had brought him. Sam turned to O'Neill, who was peering at her, a concerned expression etched on his face.

His voice pitched low, O'Neill leaned toward her. "You've been distracted and out of it all evening. You sick?"

"Shh," Sam glanced over to make sure Janet hadn't heard. "No, I'm not sick. I'm just...Svetla, Dr. Markova, she shared some things with me and...it just got to me, I guess."

"Kind of creepy how she knew all about us."

"Yes, but really, with Mayborne involved, not surprising."

O'Neill poked at the fire, stirring up the coals. He shrugged when Cassie frowned at him, smiling when she readjusted her roasting position. Sam watched the interaction, then leaned her cheek on her upturned knee, her face toward O'Neill. In this position she could pretty much watch him, guilt-free.

Okay, maybe not guilt-free, but without anyone commenting. It's not like anyone was going to monitor which way her head turned. The fire blazed as he poked it again, illuminating his chiseled features. The straight line of his nose, falling to his full lips. Not as puffy-full as Daniels, that was obvious. But still...just right.

Sam had long ago given up on denying how she felt about her CO. Why spend her energy in denial to herself when that energy could be better put to use hiding it from the rest of the world? Svetla's words came back to her and Sam couldn't help wondering how successful she actually was at hiding it if the Russian scientist picked up on it after just a few hours' acquaintance.

O'Neill picked up his coffee mug and brought it to his lips, and Sam had to bite her own lip to stifle a groan. The wind shifted, bringing with it the scent of coffee, Jack O'Neill, campfire smoke, and s'mores. All scents that combined threatened to send her to places she really shouldn't go.

Couldn't go. Especially not here.

She closed her eyes and just let the smells and sounds of the night wash over her, savoring the few things she _was_ allowed to indulge in when it came to him. To them. For she knew how he felt too, thanks to the damned Za'tarc's.

"So...Markova and Sarkalov, huh?"

Sam's eyes snapped open and she found O'Neill's face close to her own. He was mirroring her position, creating a private space for the two of them amidst their friends. Their family.

Sam, too, glanced across at their friends. If Janet had noticed their conversation, and Sam had no doubt that she had, she was keeping Cassie occupied for the moment; she shot her friend a grateful glance before turning back to her CO. O'Neill's expression was blank, perhaps too carefully blank, and Sam wondered if he was fishing or if he knew.

"Wh– what do you mean?"

The Colonel shrugged. "During our search we found his quarters. Saw some photos." He studied her face for a moment and then said softly, "It wasn't too hard to figure out from her reaction at the console, either."

Tears filled her eyes before she could stop them and Sam nodded. "His was the first...body...we saw on the other side."

"Damn."

Sam pursed her lips and kept her eyes on his. O'Neill flicked a gaze across the fire to the rest of the group, all of whom were engaged in a game of Scrabble now. He leaned closer until his elbow was touching hers. "You okay?"

Blowing out a long, slow breath, Sam considered her answer carefully. "Yes. I think . . . I- I would rather be there if . . . if something were to, ah . . .." She swallowed hard. "Coming back to the SGC to find–" She couldn't finish

"I know." O'Neill increased the pressure of his elbow against her arm.

"When we were on the mini sub, and the glass shattered, I thought, 'Oh, God, this is it. And then I thought . . . I thought . . . well, then, nothing happened. Nothing until Daniel stuck his hand _out_ , into the water."

" _Touching_ things again."

Sam continued as if she hadn't heard him, her eyes on his but her thoughts back on the planet. "And then it just . . . just _sucked_ us in. And for one second all I could see was all that water, and I thought, 'at least Svetla gets to be with her Misha,' but then I was angry because I wouldn't–"

Again she stopped. It was one thing to admit in the stark reality of a life-and-death position how you felt about someone . . . about your CO, but another to continue to talk about it. To _not_ leave it in that room for unpacking later. They'd agreed to keep it there for his protection and for hers. For the team.

For the greater good.

 _For . . . for how long, though?_

Svetla's words came back to her. _"Do not waste what you have. Your knowledge, or your opportunity. One will last, one can be taken in an instant."_ Sam caught O'Neill's eye and shifted her arm so that hers was resting atop his. She moved closer and leaned against him slightly. "Is it worth it, do you think?"

"What?" His voice was soft, almost intimate, and his eyes never left his.

She nudged him slightly, then glanced at the others, conveying with just a glance how they kept these small, intimate conversations just between them. How they came so close to that shifting line but never crossed it. How it might be possible to be together if they didn't serve together, at least on the same team.

"You said it, Sam. You'd rather be . . . there . . . if something happened. Same goes." He held her gaze, his eyes boring into hers. "If it means having each other's back each time we step through that gate, then yes. It's worth it." He offered her a ghost of a smile. "For now."

"For now," she echoed. She yawned and checked the others. "I do have one request, though."

The Colonel raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"Can we go to a few desert planets for a while? I've enough water to last me for a while."

O'Neill poked at the fire, sending up another shower of sparks and flashing Cassie a brief smile before turning back to Sam. He gave her a rare smile, his eyes sparkling with a light that stole her breath.

"So . . . No pool then?"

~ o0o ~

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note(s): Thanks, as always, to Leiasky for the amazingly clarifying beta.


	8. Pest Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after _The First Ones_ on a planet of my own making. Episode synopsis: _Dr. Jackson is taken captive by an Unas while on an archaeological dig. The SGC mounts a rescue operation, but discovers a danger of their own._

_  
**Pest Control**   
_

~ o0o ~

P8T-686  
8Km ENE of Stargate  
Base Camp  
Mid-watch  
5 Hours past sunset, local time

"Damn, I think I . . . _crap_." O'Neill's voice carried to Sam where she lay stretched out near the fire. She sat up and looked over at him, then jumped up to help him sit. He was struggling to not put any weight on his arm, which was swathed in bandages.

"Sir?"

"Erg . . . no, I'm good, Carter. I, _damn_."

This time his words were laced with pain and Sam glanced down at his bandaged arm, noting the fresh blood staining the once white bandaging. "Sit still, Sir. I'll get Janet." O'Neill's good hand on her arm stopped her.

"Carter, no. I don't want to wake her. Again."

Sam frowned at him, worried by the pain she could see etched in his features. The softly crackling fire caused the light to flicker and dance over his features, and she could see the shadows under his eyes. "Sir," she said softly. "You really need to get it looked at again."

"It'll keep 'til morning, Carter."

Responding to the firmness of his tone, she sat down beside him, near enough so that her knee touched his as they resettled beside the fire. Sam glanced at the other campsites around them, noting one or two figures still moving around, all in silhouette against the low flames of their own small fires. One or two of the larger tents had were illuminated by the flickering glow of lanterns, but for the most part the site was quiet. Settled for the night. The _very long_ nights of this planet.

She prodded the fire and set a pot of water on the coals to warm it for tea for her and coffee for her Colonel, though she wished he'd just take tea instead to settle for the night. A faint rustling behind her told her Teal'c was near, and her senses were confirmed by the low voice coming from just beyond the trees.

"Major Carter, is all well?"

"We're good, Teal'c, the Colonel's just . . . restless."

"Yes, the Colonel's just restless," O'Neill parroted.

Sam shot him a sheepish look.

"Very well. Major Griff's team will be taking the remainder of the watches for the night. I will go to my rest now if you have no further need of me."

"Go. Rest. Meditate. Better leave the candles in the pack, though. Wouldn't want Griff's team barreling into your tent in the middle of the night." O'Neill spoke up, handing Sam his mug as he did so.

"I do not bring–"

"Joke, T."

Sam regarded him with a curious look. "Janet give you painkillers?"

"It's _just_ a scratch."

Sam detected more than a hint of annoyance in the response.

Sam slowly poured water into both of their mugs and set them aside to cool slightly. She held out her hand and stared O'Neill down until he reluctantly laid his bandaged arm across her palm. Sam gently set his arm on her knee and began to unwrap the gauze holding the bandages in place, wanting to see how badly he had pulled his stitches.

"Sir, I never did hear how you did this." Sam had returned to the campsite with the science teams and found O'Neill in the medical tent being stitched up by Janet. And amused Daniel had looked on, but she'd been called away again before hearing an explanation.

"Oh, you know," O'Neill shrugged. "It's just one of those things." He wouldn't meet her gaze.

Sam paused and looked up at him, noting the faint coloring creeping up his neck. "You weren't kidnapped by an amorous Unas, were you?" She asked, referring to Daniel's recent adventure with his new friend Chaka.

"Ah, no."

Pulling away the last layer of bandaging, Sam gently lifted the gauze pads and frowned. He'd managed to pull free five of the stitches Janet had carefully put in place. "Sir, Janet really needs to fix this tonight."

"No."

"Sir."

"Carter," there was steel in O'Neill's voice. "No." He tried to tug his arm free and frowned at her when she refused to release him. " _Carter_."

" _Colonel_ ," Sam responded with an equally exasperated tone. They stared each other for a long moment, Sam giving herself permission to hold his gaze and not look away. She searched his eyes, wondering at his reluctance, slowing becoming aware of her fingers stroking the inside of his arm. Surprisingly, he broke first.

"Look. You can do just as good a job as the Doc at this point. Just put some of that cream on it, wrap it in clean stuff, and if it still hurts in the morning, I'll go see the little needle-sticker."

Giving him a slight smile, Sam nodded. It was a compromise. "Fine. But you have to tell me what happened."

As she reached behind her for the med kit, she felt and heard him sigh in resignation.

"Go."

Sam tilted her head. Was he sending her away? She shook her head and frowned at him, her confusion probably quite clear because O'Neill wiggled the arm resting in her lap.

"G'wan, Carter. Do your worst."

That stung, she hated the idea of causing him pain. More pain. "Sir," she said, her voice low.

"Kidding. Go on." He offered her a tiny, if pained smile.

O'Neill was silent as she opened the kit and laid out the tools she'd need. As an afterthought she added another log to the fire to bring up the light a bit, and also brought out her small Maglite. Handing it to O'Neill, she tipped the beam down to where she needed it. Once she was ready, she looked up at him. "So?"

The Colonel looked away from the fire and back at her. "Right. So . . ." He hissed as Sam began to carefully clean away the blood from the opened stitches, but began speaking. "I'd have been fine, really, if it hadn't been for the squirrel."

Pausing, Sam looked up. "A . . . squirrel did this?"

"Yes. Well, no."

O'Neill leaned close and Sam's breath caught in her chest. For a fleeting instant, with his face so near hers, she had the wild urge to lean in and kiss his cheek. Especially when she caught a whiff of his aftershave. Just as she lost control of the last of her reserves, he leaned back with his coffee in hand and she let out a shaky breath.

 _Oh. Wow. Too close._

"Um . . . so. Squirrel?" She asked, trying to regain her equilibrium

"It wasn't so much the squirrel . . . or whatever it was, a squirrel-like-thing . . . really it was when my pack got caught."

"On what?"

"Well, it was really a 'by' what, Carter."

"By?" Sam continued to gently wipe the eight-inch line of stitches clean. Her attention on her task, she absently noticed that the injury was clean, not jagged and torn as she would have expected from an animal attack. Even as she thought it, O'Neill's next words jerked her attention back to his story.

"Teal'c thinks it was a bear."

Sam froze. "A . . . _bear_?" She stared at him, her hands tightening unconsciously on his arm. "Colonel, are you telling me a _bear_ did this to you and I'm just _now_ hearing about it?"

"Easy, Carter. Turns out it wasn't a bear. Well, not a full-grown one, anyway. Not even a baby bear. Perkins thinks it was more like a cross between a bear and a big cat."

Still staring at him, Sam could only shake her head. "A . . . bear- _cat_? What the heck is–"

"I _know_!" O'Neill interrupted her, his face suddenly animated. "That's what _I_ said! One minute I was talking with Teal'c about the Cup finals and the next thing I know . . . ow!"

"Sorry." Sam hastily loosened her grip and grabbed a fresh piece of gauze to wipe the blood from his arm. She bent low again over him, absently reaching out and taking hold of his other hand and repositioning it for better light. Her attention focused on his arm, she missed the look on his face as her hand wrapped, however briefly, around his. With a last swipe of the wound, she blew on it to dry it more quickly, then felt O'Neill shiver. She looked up, surprised at the expression she caught on his face. "Okay?" She asked softly.

"Uh," O'Neill swallowed hard and flicked his gaze away. "Yes. Fine. Good. Um, where was I?"

Turning back to his wound, Sam said, "Somehow a bear-cat thing and a squirrel stole your pack and you got an eight-inch gash in your arm."

"Carter," O'Neill said with exaggerated patience. "I told you. I got _this_ , he twitched his arm in his hands, "because of the squirrel-thing. The bear . . . thing had nothing to do with it."

"Then why–"

"Once the bear-thing snagged my pack–"

"Wait, was the pack on you at the time?"

"Well . . . no."

"Where was it?"

"I was . . . otherwise occupied."

Sam's brow furrowed. "Otherwise occ– oh." She felt her own blush creeping up. He and Teal'c must have taken a nature break.

"Right. So . . . the bear-thing comes out of nowhere and the next thing I know my pack is being dragged off. Naturally, I follow."

"Naturally," she said dryly. "Um, right away?"

"Well, after . . . ah . . . securing things."

"Ah, right." Again Sam blushed and this time she was grateful her face was turned toward his injured arm. She was sure she was as red as a beet by now. The thought of Colonel O'Neill leaping up from his . . . business . . . and having to put himself together as he ran . . . she bit back a small chuckle and then stopped as she was suddenly hit with a mental image of him leaping up, important . . . parts . . . bouncing as he tried to get himself together.

 _Oh . . . my._

Tucking that image away for examination at a later date, she focused instead on the work she was doing on his arm. She wasn't completely successful, however, because she had another flash, and she cursed her overactive imagination. This time the sound that came out of her was closer to a groan than a chuckle and she tried to stifle both by turning it into a cough.

"Something funny, Major?"

Apparently an unsuccessful cough. "No, Sir. Nothing at all." Sam bit back a smile as she slathered antibiotic ointment on his stitches, careful not to apply too much pressure. "So," she prompted. "The bear took your pack . . ."

"Teal'c was no help, he was, um, well . . . he caught up with me eventually. One of my straps snagged on something and yanked the bear-thing back. It fell and yowled. A _lot_. I realized about then that the mama bear-thing might be around so I was going to grab my pack and run."

"And that's where the squirrel comes in?"

"Not exactly."

"Not _exactly_? What does that mean?" Sam looked up at him, taking a moment to take a sip of her tea as he drank his coffee. "But I thought you said–"

"Carter, you wanna hear this or not?"

O'Neill's eyes twinkled in the firelight and Sam realized that she'd never be able to resist that look. She tipped her head and smiled back, delighted when his small smile widened slightly. He was enjoying this, she realized. Dragging it out for her. She wondered if he were enjoying it as much as she was. She waved a hand it what was patently an O'Neill-like gesture. "Sorry, please continue."

"As I was _saying_ ," he continued, emphasizing her interruption with gentle good humor. "Just as I stepped forward, Mama bear-thing let out a huge roar and charged me. Teal'c was too far away to do anything, so I jumped for the nearest tree."

"I thought bears could–"

"Carter."

"Sorry."

"About halfway up I remembered just that very fact and looked down and sure enough, there was the mama, just a few feet behind me."

Now he had Sam's complete attention. His arm lay across her knees, her fingers wrapped protectively around it as she watched his face. She could see it now, and wondered how the heck he'd gotten away with just a cut on the arm when faced with an angry mother bear . . . or whatever . . . protecting her child.

"About this time, T _finally_ shows up and fires a shot, scaring the bear. She got the heck out of dodge pretty quickly, her baby running along behind. I climbed down, got my pack, and we headed back to base camp." The Colonel stopped and took a long swallow of his coffee, watching as Sam re-covered his line of stitches with sterile pads and began winding gauze around his arm to hold it in place.

After a few moments, Sam looked at him and frowned. "I don't understand. If you didn't get cut by the bear, or the tree, where does the squirrel come in?"

Now O'Neill looked sheepish and he hesitated. He opened his mouth to speak but a new voice answered, humor lacing his tone.

"Oh, that's really the best part, Sam."

Both officers looked up to see Daniel stumbling sleepily toward them from the now darkened archaeology tent. He slumped beside Jack and deftly removed the coffee cup from O'Neill's hands. Sam watched her Colonel's eyes narrow as Daniel finished the last of the coffee in the mug, grimacing at the bitter taste before handing the empty cup back. He yawned and stretched, then pushed himself to his feet, clearly heading to bed.

"Wait," Sam looked from Daniel to O'Neill and back. " _What's_ the best part?" She caught O'Neill's fierce look at Daniel but knew her friend would ignore the unspoken command from the Colonel.

Daniel grinned down at Sam. "Apparently, when they got back to camp, Jack set his pack down and began making dinner."

"But I thought it was Team Four's turn to make dinner," she protested, looking back at O'Neill.

"It was," came O'Neill's dry response.

"Until Jack caught Kauffman adding those pepper-things to the soup."

"Oh." Sam shuddered. "I hate those."

"I know." O'Neill nodded in satisfaction, then winced as his movement pulled his arm slightly in Sam's still-tight grip.

"I still don't see how . . .."

Daniel started to chuckle. "Jack yelled at Kauffman and told him to toss out what he'd made and to grab the extra meals from Jack's pack. Kauffman jumped about a foot, turned, reached into the pack, and out popped this squirrel."

"No."

"Yes." Now Daniel was laughing quietly. "I'm not sure who was more surprised, Kauffman or the squirrel. All I know is that Kauffman let out a scream."

"It was a girly scream." O'Neill huffed.

"Hey," Sam frowned at him.

O'Neill shrugged and Daniel laughed again. "It really was, Sam."

"Definitely a _girly_ scream." O'Neill gave an overly dramatic shudder.

"But how did _this_ ," and she tipped her chin toward O'Neill's arm which still lay, now neatly rebandaged, in her lap. "Happen?"

"As Kauffman jumped backward, Jack jumped forward, and Kauffman was still holding his knife."

"Oh my God. Sir, you could have been–"

"Skewered by a scientist! I _know_!"

"Hey!" This time both Daniel and Sam fixed him with a glare. "You guys don't count. You're . . . well you don't."

Sam squinted at Daniel and then back at O'Neill. She wasn't entirely certain she shouldn't be more insulted. Daniel, however, appeared satisfied and, after giving them a final nod, headed toward his and Teal'c's tent. Sam absently followed his progress, unaware the she still held O'Neill's injured arm cradled in her lap. She slid one hand up to his elbow and the other down to his hand, automatically checking for uneven or warm spots as she went. Once at the bottom of the bandage, she trailed her fingers across his hand, her mind on the Colonel's story. She didn't notice the Colonel's fingers closing around her own.

Sometimes it frightened her, how close they came, all of them, to death almost every time they stepped through the gate. But it was on missions like these, innocuous ones, where they'd been on site for more than ten days, that it really hit her just how dangerous their job really was. How easily it could all be taken from them. Unconsciously she tightened her fingers around his, then froze as she realized what she was doing. Slowly, she lifted her gaze and found his waiting for her.

"Sam?"

Ducking her head, Sam tried to lift his arm away to return it to his side, but stopped as he resisted. He squeezed her fingers again. "Carter, what?"

She didn't know how to tell him, how to share what she was thinking. It was like one of those stories where the person survives a ten-thousand foot fall from an airplane only to be killed by a bus the next day. They'd never know, would they, which mission would be _it_? She sighed.

"C'mon, Carter. Out with it."

"I was thinking about . . ." _losing you_ , her traitorous mind supplied. Out loud she finished, "Hawkins and his team. How quickly something so . . . simple . . . can go bad." She tipped her chin toward Daniel's tent. "Look at Daniel. He was kidnapped by a lonely Unas and . . . in true Daniel-fashion makes a new friend. But . . . he could just have easily been–"

"Lunch?" O'Neill's tone wasn't flippant, and his brown eyes were serious on hers.

"Yeah." Sam gave up trying to move his arm, it was apparent that he would remove it when he was good and ready. She instead found herself fiddling with his fingers, feeling and mentally cataloging the calluses she felt there. "I expect it, you know, on the big, scary missions. But on things like this . . ."

"Carter," O'Neill squeezed her fingers and she met his gaze. "It was an accident. A clumsy sci– er, guy with a knife and . . .." He looked pointedly at his arm. "It's not a big deal."

"I know." Sam was struggling to hold back her emotions and this time she firmly lifted his arm up and away, placing it gently onto his own lap. "It's just . . . I can't imagine coming back into _camp_ , a place that's really supposed to be our home-away-from-home to find that you . . . that one of us . . . had been killed because –"

"Of a squirrel?"

In spite of her self, Sam let out a watery laugh. "Yeah."

"Think of how _I_ feel, Carter. Think of it, taken down by a _rodent_?"

Sam tipped her head at him and narrowed her eyes. "Are we still talking about the squirrel, Colonel?"

"Not exactly."

"Sir."

"Okay," he conceded. I _might_ have been referring to Kauffman." He picked up his empty mug, then looked inside and frowned, throwing a dark glance toward Daniel and Teal'c's tent before setting his cup aside again.

Amusement laced her tone. "I won't tell, Sir."

He straightened, pleased. "Thank you." He faced her. "Wait . . . tell about what?"

"That you came out on the losing end of a battle with a squirrel."

"It was a _scientist_."

"A scientist terrorized by a squirrel." She cocked her head. "Though I'm not sure which is worse." She shrugged and added, "Either way, your secret's safe with me."

"Thanks."

"But I'm sure Daniel's already told."

"He wouldn't."

She just lifted an eyebrow and swallowed the last of her tea.

O'Neill sighed. "Where's that Unas again?"

~ o0o ~

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note(s): Once again, I owe a huge debt to the writing and editing talents of Leiasky. You are brilliant and a terrific sounding-board. I especially enjoy our real-time chats as we work . . . bits . . . out. grin
> 
> This will be the last _Campfire_ for a while as I am having back surgery on Monday and will be out of commission for a bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: I know I've said this before, but I really do believe that while Sam and Jack didn't dive into bed during their week-long interlude on P3X-234 (and Chulak, in my universe), they did come to some sort of understanding. In _Nemesis_ , there's a great deal of sexual tension in that "come fishing" invitation. Sam is hesitant, unsure, and Jack immediately jumps to the "nothing wrong with that . . ." line. Contrast that with the interaction at the beginning of _Small Victories_ , when Sam says, "Still going fishing?" and Jack replies, "Yep. Still staying here?"
> 
> It's significant that it's Sam who brings up the fishing in _Small Victories_ and the warm, open smiles they share say a lot . . . at least to me. Neither is looking away, ducking the eye contact. They're both so . . . _present_. Something changed during that week. I think this is a terrific ep to kick off what is arguably the shippiest season of all.


End file.
